


Willing to Lie

by Ilyen



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: But its like one comment, Chap 6 starts getting explicit, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Masturbation, McHanzo - Freeform, Modern AU, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Smut, There's a small scene where it's kinda implied a character would trade use sex for payment, background r76, but anyway, but i cant see hanzo hiring someone off craigslist to fake a relationship, craigslist post, despite the start its mchanzo, genji and mccree are gonna be bffs and ill fight you about it, genji's a little shit, hope y'all like it, i tried to make this funny, mentions of abuse, ok here we go, so well see, that's a totally genji thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:03:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 69,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8673730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilyen/pseuds/Ilyen
Summary: "It's Thanksgiving. Want to skip that long, insulting conversation about how you're still single? About how your parents really want more grandchildren? Well, look no further!I am a 28 year old felon with no high school degree and a dirty old van one year younger than me painted like Eddie Van Halen's guitar. I can play between the ages of 20 and 29 depending on if I shave. I'm a line cook and work late nights at a bar. If you'd like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a  very long or serious relationship with you, to torment your family, I'm game."-Jesse McCree probablyA story 110% based on this craigslist ad - http://cdn.foodbeast.com/content/uploads/2014/11/craig.jpg





	1. About How We Met

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty everyone, thank the mchanzo discord for this. Wiccanism's linked that ad, and went "lol that's mccree" and then it was "someone should write that" I went "YES" and now I have this multi-chapter monstrosity.
> 
> Huge thank you to both dafnier and goodluckdetective for the beta read!!! Your suggestions are always on point :)

Jesse McCree has made very many dumb decisions in his lifetime.

Most of them fell under the category ‘spur-of-the-moment.’ On impulse, snap choices with the absolute minimum of forethought. The majority of his tattoos were because they’d looked cool at the time.  Buying an ancient half-dead van for $250 was part desperation and part because he’d liked the paint job. Daring Gabe to a hot-pepper eating contest had been pure young cockiness.  His boss had earned his nickname that day, after the Carolina Reaper peppers they’d attempted to eat. That last one was top of his list as far as regrets go, as the consequences has stayed with him for _days_ afterward.  

Typing a funny advert to post on the craigslist wasn’t one of those snap decisions. That debacle is _entirely_ deliberate, and heck, he even had help deciding exactly what to say, sitting at Watchpoint’s bar late one as they wait for the last table to leave.

“There.” As he types out the last sentence, he hands his phone over to Sombra, seated next to him picking through the remains of her burger and fries. “Pretty good right?”

From behind the bar, wiping down taps, Amélie peers over her shoulder unable to hide her interest as the waitress reads aloud.

 _“I am a 28 year old felon with no high school degree,”_ Sombra snickers as she types an addition: _“And a dirty old van one year younger than me painted like Eddie Van Halen’s guitar.”_

“Don’t sass my van!” he protests, reaching over to nab a french fry from Sombra's plate while she's distracted.

“It’s _horrendous._ ” Amélie arches an eyebrow, her French accent lending emphasis to her words. “If anyone actually hires you they need fair warning.”

He points at her with the fry, dripping ketchup onto the clean countertop.“You're exaggerating.”

“No,” the bartender's voice exudes disdain. “I really am not.” 

He feigns hurt and crosses his arms. “Keep reading, Som.”

“Eh-heh hem: _'I’m a line cook and work late nights at a bar. If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you to torment your family, I’m game.’_ Jesus, you write like you talk.” Sombra cackles, then frowns as she notices him taking from her plate. “Are you eating my fries?”

“No.” He says, grabbing another. “I cooked ‘em, so they're _my_ fries. Anyway, keep going, I think I sold myself pretty well.”

Amélie walks over to pluck the phone from Sombra’s grasp. “Let us see... _‘I can do any of these things, at your request: Openly hit on other guests while you act like you don't notice. Start instigative discussion about politics and religion. Propose to you in front of everyone. Pretend to be drunk. Start a fight.’_ ” She snorts and shakes her head as she hands back his phone. “Add another warning about that mess you dare call a beard. If you shave you look like you’re a teenager and if you don't you look homeless.”

“How about _‘I can play between the ages of twenty an’ twenty-nine depending on if I shave.’_ Good?”

“Perfect, amigo.” Sombra leans over his shoulder and taps the post button before he can react. “And there.”

“I wasn’t done!”

She scoffs.“Yeah, you were. It wasn’t going to get much better than that. If you think too much about stuff you ruin it.”

“Like his cooking.”

“Hey!” He protests again, and Sombra leans over the counter fishing for a high five from Amélie. The bartender turns away, instead wiping the spilled ketchup from the bartop.

“I’m gonna delete it, if it even posts. The wifi in here sucks.” He watches the little loading circle for a moment before putting his phone down. “I’m planning on going over to the Amari’s this year anyway, Ana said she’ll do something since Gabe’s going out of town.”

“Amélie, c’mon. Ame! Ames!  High five me, that was good!” Sombra is still standing, hand waving as Amélie pointedly ignores her. “Jack’s going somewhere this year too, so Ana’s going to be our front house manager for the week…” She trails off as she sits back down. “Wait, when’s Gabe leaving?”

“Not sure, Monday or Tuesday maybe?”

“That’s funny, because Jack’s going to visit family back in Indiana and his flight leaves Tuesday morning. You don’t think that-”

“Nah, no way.” Jesse says, the same time as Amélie smirks and goes “Of course they are!”

He shakes his head “C’mon, Gabe _hates_ Jack. He bitches about him _all the time_. There’s no way he’s going to spend Thanksgiving with him and his, and I quote, ‘Pasty ass white bread boy scout family.’”

“You’ve known Gabe for how many years?” Amélie  raises both eyebrows.

“Shoot, since I was seventeen, give or take.”

“And how long has this ‘bitching’ been going on?”

“Forever, probably.” He frowns, then adds. “I mean he might dig on Jack a lil’ excessively. And Jack did used to visit a lot when I was younger. And I guess they did open the restaurant together. And I did go through Gabe’s stuff once years and years ago and find a bunch of letters addressed to him from Jack; that was the closest Gabe ever came to kicking me back out onto the street and _oh my god you’re right._ ”   

“They’re _totally_ a thing,” Sombra adds in. “but I can find out for sure. Amélie, gimme the office keys.”

“No.”

“We’re going to be here another hour at least. My stupid table is _still_ talking and I dropped the check off forty-five minutes ago. Please?”

“No.”

“I’ll change payroll so you can get a raise!”

Amélie hums for a moment. “...No.”

“Man you two suck. Also, Jesse, don’t you dare delete that!”

He pauses, finger hovering over the screen. “Why? It’s stupid.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well yeah, you wrote it. But I’m like 90% sure it’ll go viral and I was going to post it to Reddit for the karma when I get home. If my table ever fucking leaves. Plus what’s the worst that can happen?”

“No one will call you anyway.” Amélie says as she rinses her rag. “And if they do I’m sure two minutes of conversation with you would make anyone regret it.”

“Yikes, you are kinda mean, ain’t you.” He can’t help but feel mildly insulted. “Well fine then, if ya both so sure. I’ll leave it.”

* * *

 

He’s forgotten all about the ad by the next day.

Sombra’s table stayed almost _two hours_ past close. Since Amélie had to cash out and he had the building keys, neither of them could leave until she could. He’d been dozing off in the seat at the bar, so when he’d finally stumbled up to his apartment at half past midnight, he’d fallen right asleep without even kicking his shoes off. To top it all off he'd forgotten to plug his phone in and it had died during the night.

As a result, he’d ended up being late for the start of his shift, working lunch and dinner. At least they closed the restaurant at eight pm on Sundays, so hopefully he could shut the kitchen down by quarter of. He’d borrowed a charger from Lena and left his phone out on the bar, resigning himself to another day behind the grill. He didn’t dislike his job per se. It was more the fact the days were starting to blend together, and he really didn’t have too much going for him. With his record from his youth he was lucky he even _had_ a job. Gabe, who years ago had been his foster father, was probably the only reason he wasn’t actually living on the street or dead in an alley.

Gabriel Reyes is the head chef at Overwatch, located in busy downtown San Diego, California. A small restaurant and smaller bar, popular among the locals. Jack Morrison, Gabe’s long-time friend and business partner, manages the front-end. Jesse had worked in the kitchen ever since it opened, some seven or so years ago.  Even on the busiest days they only had a max of three wait staff, one bartender, and a busser-barback for the weekends.

Today the restaurant is _packed_. From the moment the first ticket printed off, it was clear this shift was going to be barely controlled chaos, both he and Zarya are running themselves ragged as they cook. As the slam really hits, he’s already managed to shatter two different plates and earn a new burn on his left wrist after Zarya accidently bumped him with a pan full of sauteed vegetables. The other line cook is doing only a little bit better; he watched her spill half a tub of uncooked pasta on the burners and that had nearly started a small fire.

Middle of the lunch rush, Lena barrels into the kitchen, shoving past the Torbjorn, the restaurant's stout dishwasher, waiting at the metal rack known as the expo window. His phone clutched is in her hand and she has a hamburger that he’d just sent out in the other.

“Jesse!”  She has to shout to be heard.

“Yeah?” He hollers back, pulling out baked haddock from the oven, setting it on a plate. In a smooth motion he turns, with his tongs takes a few cooked asparagus that had been sauteed for the side, along with  a scoop of mashed potato. He finishes the haddock with a cream sauce, the adds to the stack of meals in the window.

“You’re phone's been going off non-stop for like, an hour now! Also one of my tables says the hamburger was too rare!”

“I’m sorry, what? ”  He takes a half second to redo his short ponytail, and to retie his headband that kept sweat from dripping into his eyes. For the umpteenth time that morning he considers shaving, the beard net he has to wear on the line makes his face itchy. As every other time before, he decides to worry about it later. It was always so damn hot in the kitchen, he'd be a sweaty mess by the end of the day, beard or no beard.“They’re sending back one of my burgers? Ticket said medium well, right?”

“I think she wanted well done.” Lena wrinkles her nose.  “You can just go ahead and burn it, I don’t care anymore. She’s a middle-aged mum. And a right minger too, already told me she was taking it out of my tip. Tosser sent her martini back too and I thought Amélie  was going to march over and pour it on her head.”

“What a bitch.” He takes the plate from her, throws the patty back on the grill. “Gimme two minutes and I’ll turn this into a hockey puck. And tell Som her big ticket’s up, the table of nine? I need this shit outta my window.”

“You’re the best.” She scoots to the side so Zarya has room to pass, carrying a boiling pot of soup stock to be strained. “And check your phone, I had to silence it because it wouldn’t stop ringing. Bunch of numbers you don’t have saved.”

She hands it through the expo station, over the meals, and he can see the screen is lit up with text notifications. “What the-”

“Sombra said it’s probably because of craigslist?”

 _That stupid ad_. “Oh, my fucking god. I forgot.” He shoves the phone in his pocket, he’s a little too busy to care about some dumb joke right now. The ticket printer goes off again, spitting another order out to add to the line. And then another. He bites back a sigh. “I’ll check when I gotta minute.”

Lena, ever helpful, she grabs three of the plated meals from the window. “I can start running Som’s ticket. We’re _crazy_ out there, for a Sunday. Be back in a flash!”

It stays hectic after that, bad enough that even with him and Zarya on there's an almost thirty-minute wait on food. He has to page Amélie  to send in the barback to run plates out, a cheery kid the same age as Lena by the name of Lucio. Lena’s bitchy table ends up complaining and Ana has to comp her meal, on top of free desserts. It’s a small retaliation for him to draw a dick with the chocolate drip under the cake slice. Ana even gives a small snicker when he shows her.

It’s almost time to start dinner prep before things slow down enough for him to remember his phone. As he fishes for it, it buzzes, another message. He sees the notification number, rubs his eyes, and blinks again. _Holy shit._

“Hey, Som?” He calls out, seeing her and Lena  by the dish station, Lena leaning back against the wall looking utterly exhausted while Sombra scrapes food off a stack of plates before handing them to Torbjorn.

“Yeeeessssss?” She turns, eyebrows raised, feigning innocence.

He steps out from behind the grill, hand on his hip and frown crossing his face. “Did ya post that ad to that website like you said?”

“Maaaaaaaybe?” She looks away, holding an empty plate in front of her like a shield. “Why?”

He holds out his phone, and both her and Lena lean over too look.

Lena sputters.“Holy shit!”

 _Five hundred and sixty-seven_ new notifications. _Thirty-two_ missed phone calls.

“Uhhh..hah hah?” Sombra grins, far too widely. “Well, look, now you’re famous!”

His phone buzzes again. Five hundred and sixty-eight.  He glares at her.

“I am never letting you talk me into anything again.”

She shrugs. “Hey, it was  Amélie  too, and you should see the amount of upvotes I have!”

“You’re terrible.” His phone vibrates, and he groans. “Fuck my life.”

“More importantly,” Lena says, “Are you going to answer any of them?”

“Nope. I’m going to turn it off and pretend it never happened.”

“Lame!”  She pouts and Sombra rolls her eyes.

“You have no sense of adventure, Jesse. It could be a good time!”

He’s scrolling through the messages, trying to at least start deleting them. “Most of these are just dumb anyway. _‘Lol dude u can come over here and gobble me’_ and there’s a picture of an ugly dick. This one says ‘ _how fucking lonely are you go kys’_ and this one is entirely emojis. Do I even want to know how many people have my number now?”

Sombra pulls out her own phone, opening it to a  web page. She glances up at him, looks down again, giving a low whistle. “No. No, you don’t. On the bright side, I made the front page!”

His phone goes off again, this time a phone call.

“Answer it!” Lena crowds close, waves frantically.

He mashes ignore. “Don’t think so.”

“Awwww!”

“Don’t you two have tables to wait on?” He tilts his head at the door, seeing  Amélie’s bar is still pretty crowded.

“Mine are done, and I’m not working dinner tonight, Mei is. Just waiting on my last check.” Lena says.

Sombra sticks her tongue out at her fellow waitress. “Lucky, I’m closing all week, ugh. Also, I was kinda hoping you would make me some food?”

“I ain’t making you shit. Not after you got the internet to blow up my fucking phone.”

As if to accentuate his point, his phone rings again, and this time Lena manages to swipe it from his hand. “Goddamit would you people fucking quit it? ”

“‘Ello?”

“Give it back-”

She shushes him. “Nope, but he’s right here! Serious? Yeah, he would, one sec.”

Cupping her hand over the phone, she looks him in the eye. “This guy said he’ll pay you five hundred bucks. You should do it!”

He takes his phone back and hangs up.

“Jesse!” Both waitresses protest.

“Go do your work. Scram.”

“Are we gonna get dinner?” Sombra ducks over Torb to wash her hands, done clearing the plates. “It was busy all day and I’m starving.”

“ Whatever. If you delete that post on your reddits or whatever it is. I’m taking it off Craigslist.”

“Fiiiinneeee.” She wipes her hands on her apron. “I want the tortellini.”

“And I’ll have a ranch wrap.” Lena adds. “Please and thank you!”

He runs his hand over his face and sighs. “You’re a goddamn menace and fucking _christ._ ” His phone is ringing _again_. “Sombra I am gonna wipe your tortellini on the fucking floor.”

It’s the same number as the last two times. He answers it, only to tell them that to stop _fucking calling._

“Yo!” A male voice on the other end, barely audible over the thumping bass and noise of a crowd in the background. “I wanna hire you!”

He doesn’t have the patience for this. “Too bad, partner. It was kinda a joke that got a bit-”

They cut him off. “Five hundred, and I’ll double it if you can piss off both my brother and my father.”

His words die on his tongue. “Double? As in one grand?”

“What I say?” The man scoffs. “Look,  I’ll give you three hundred up front. Where do you work?”

“Watchpoint. It's in downtown by-”

“Must be small, I’ve never heard of it. I’ll GPS it. You there tonight?”

He hesitates before answering. “Yeah.”

“It’s a deal then, see ya!”

“Whoa whoa hold up-” The line is dead. He rubs his eyes and swears.

Both waitresses trade glances, grinning widely. Sombra speaks first, and he swears she looks just a bit too pleased with herself. “I cannot wait to tell Gabe about this tomorrow. This is the best thing that’s ever happened here.”

* * *

 

“Jesse!”  Mei calls, standing at the expo window. “Someone’s here to see you!”

“Fuck.” He slams the spatula down, and next to him he hears Zarya start to chuckle. After he’d returned to the line, he’d ranted about ‘stupid internet’ and ‘Sombra stirring up shit on purpose to ruin his life’ and ‘I have so many fucking dick pics on his phone and he’d not normally complain but a man has limits, dammit.’ “Fucking a, I cannot believe he actually showed up. I thought he was pulling my leg.”

He’d watched as Sombra deleted the post, though she had complained about it. Seven thousand-plus upvotes, and more comments than he’d ever thought possible. He’d taken down the craigslist ad himself, but it had been far too little, far too late. His phone was still going off every few minutes, and he’d had feeling it was going to be like that for the next few days. Changing his number is starting to seem like a good idea, even if he'd have to pay a fee to do it. 

“Yeah, some kid. Green hair? I think he's Japanese?” She pauses, adjusting her glasses. “Do you know him?”

Zarya gives the waitress a small wave, before turning her attention back to the stove. They only have two tickets on the line at the moment, probably the last two of the night.

“No. Someone called me earlier.” He stretches, joints popping, back sore from being on his feet all day. “Zar, mind if I take a break?”

“It’s fine. It is slow, and I can handle it.” Zarya shrugs. “Go and meet a stranger from craigslist, I am sure there is no bad thing that can come of that.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He pulls out his ponytail, running his hands through his hair. “I’m going to go see what he really wants. This has to be a joke, no one _actually_ has that kinda cash to toss around.”

He tosses the beard net in the trash and strips off his dirty chef coat, hanging it up before heading through the double doors out to the bar area. Immediately he spots his visitor. Perched at the end of the bar, sipping on something bright blue in a martini glass, complete with a little umbrella, sits a kid who looks to be in his early 20’s. Just as Mei had said, his hair is a vivid bright green. He’s wearing a tank top, pastel pink with lettering the same shade his hair, and oversized dark glasses obscure his face.  

Amélie  is standing opposite of him, arms crossed with a posture he recognizes as poorly concealed annoyance. Both look up as the kitchen doors swing shut and the kid waves.

“Yo!”

He waves back, unsure, and cautiously approaches from the backside of the bar. Amélie stalks away, as she passes she claps him on the shoulder. 

“Good luck.” she hisses. “He is _annoying.”_

The kid sticks his hand out, offering a smile. He’s on the shorter side, though the tank top shows off his muscled arms. “I’m Genji Shimada. You might have heard of me.”

“Name’s Jesse McCree.” He extends his hand to shake, and Genji takes it easily. “And nope.”

Genji’s expression drops just a small fraction. “Dude, what’s with the accent? Where the heck are you from? ”

“Santa Fe.”

“Guess that makes sense. It's all rednecks out that way.” He sips loudly, through the stirring straws. “ Alright, down to business. Thanksgiving.”

“Thanksgiving.” Jesse echoes, humoring him. He’s almost impressed he actually bothered to drive all the way out here to waste his time.

“My family doesn’t normally celebrate, but my dear old man is desperately trying to impress some business cronies. We’re having a boring, dull, lame as fuck dinner party.  There’s going to be important people there, all old money.” Genji takes a napkin, and begins tearing it into little pieces as he talks, seemingly unable to keep still. “That’s why you're perfect for this! You’re already a felon and you’re line cook at some shitty restaurant, so it’s not like you care about your reputation.”

“‘Scuse me?” He blinks, crossing his arms. _Way to get on someone’s good side._ “And how is this going to make me want to-”

“You’re gonna be my boyfriend. ” Genji cuts him off. “My family will hate you. It’ll be great.”

From the drink station at the end of the bar he hears a giggle from Sombra and Mei, who are clearly eavesdropping.

Genji continues. “Anything goes, the whole point is to piss off _everyone_. The more obnoxious the better. Do you have any poor clothes?”

“ _Poor_ …?” He repeats, floundering in disbelief.

“You’re like kinda weird rugged hot I guess, so here’s my idea.  We play up your accent, make you really look dumb. Maybe just come dressed up as a cowboy? I can tell my dad you’re a stripper!”

“Oooh oh-oh!! He has a cowboy hat!!” Sombra cuts in, waving excitedly. “I have pictures!”

He shoots her a look. “How the heck did you get pictures?!”

“Facebook.”

“I never friended you!”

Sombra bites her lips, backtracking.“Well, no, but, you see-”

“That’s perfect.” Genji claps his hands together, excited. “Plaid? Jeans? Boots?”

Jesse almost doesn’t want to answer that, settling back on his heels and grimacing before he replies. “I guess.”

“Fantastic.Wear all of it.”

“Look,” Jesse leans over the bar, pointing right at the kid’s sunglasses. “I haven’t _even_ agreed to this yet. And you’re not doing yourself any favors by insultin’ me every other word.”

“Oh, sorry dude.” Genji replies offhandedly. “I thought, y’know, since I came all the way out here to pay you meant we’d agreed.”

“I didn’t say yes!”

“You took the ad down. And just think of the cash.” He motions him close, before stage-whispering.  “You probably need it.”

He steps back.  “Fuck off. I don’t need your bullshit.”

“Aww c’mon man! Please?!” The kid pulls his glasses up and actually bats his eyes at him. “Pretty pretty please?”

He  shakes his head. “I don’t even know you!”

“Jesse, you should! It’ll be fun!” Sombra chirps.

Amélie tips the glass she’s holding in his direction, in silent encouragement.

Even Mei is nodding, trying not to giggle. “It’ll be a good story!”

Boxed in on all sides, Jesse gives. “ _Fine._ Whatever. I’ll do it.” He turns, pointing at each of his coworkers in turn. “But, if I get killed in some sort of craigslist kidnapping-murder, I’m haunting all y’all.”

Sombra snorts. “You’re like six foot two and frankly kinda beefy, I don’t think he’s going to kidnap you.”

“You saying someone wouldn’t want a piece o’ this?” From behind him, out of the corner of his eye he can see Genji giving him an exaggerated once-over, before holding up his hand, palm flat and waving his fingers in a ‘so-so’ gesture. It earns a laugh from Amélie. “I saw that. Alrighty kid, what exactly do you want from me?”

“I can think of a few things.” Genji says coyly, offering another smirk. “What you _need_ to know is that my dad is a massive asshole and my brother has a giant stick up his butt. I’m the black sheep of the family if you couldn't tell.”

“I’d never have guessed.” He deadpans.

“It’s true.” Genji laments, placing his hands over his heart. “Do you really own that van?”

“Yeah,” he jerks a thumb over his shoulder.“It’s parked out back, go look if ya want. Runs like shit but it gets me where I’m going.”

Genji’s eyebrows edge above his glasses and he grins. “Yes yes and yes! Take that and park right in the driveway. I told my father that I was bringing a date and I’d be on my best behavior. Text me when you get there cuz other wise you won’t get in, but once we’re through the front door they can’t kick you out without making a scene. Dinner is at five pm sharp, so be late. The code is four seven five one for the gate.”

He’s feeling a little overwhelmed, even more so when Genji gives him the address.

“You're from fucking La Jolla?!” He squeaks.

“La Jolla _Farms._ ” Genji corrects, nonchalant. “We’re pretty close to the beach which is _literally_ the only redeeming quality.”  

“Are you serious?” La Jolla Farms is one of the most upscale areas in San Diego. Jesse can barely keep the incredulity out of his voice. Considering what Genji is offering him in terms of cash, it suddenly all makes sense.

Genji pulls out his phone, making a face as he taps away at the screen. “I gotta go, but here.” He digs out a wad of crumpled bills from his pocket, something in a scrunched plastic bag, and he sees a key fob shaped like a car. As he stares he realizes the logo is Porsche.  Placing a $20 on the counter under his empty glass, Genji waves the rest at Jesse.

“Should be $300 in here, give or take. I’ll give you the rest when you show. We gotta deal?”

He takes the handful of cash, only answering with a mute nod.

“Then, my craigslist boyfriend, I will see you on Thursday. Be late!"

Genji hops off the barstool and is out the door, leaving Jesse standing stunned. He turns and points at where he was just sitting, money clutched in his hand.

“Did that just happen?”

Sombra giggles.“It did. You just made a deal.”

“Fuck. Me.” He shoves his hands through his hair. “Goddamnit.”

“He might, I think he was flirting with you.” Sombra muses, then takes her phone from her pocket. “What was his last name? Shimada?”

“Please, he was flirting with everyone.” Amélie points out. “He asked for my number as soon as I brought him his drink.”

“Aw, Amélie, who doesn’t want your number? I just want to know who can flash that kind- holy shit I found his Instagram.” Sombra’s eyes widen, as she starts scrolling through the photo feed. “He’s fucking loaded, look at this!”

They crowd over Sombra’s shoulder, all starting dumbfounded as she flicks through photo after photo. Selfies of Genji in front of cars (captioned Look what I just got! #birthdaypresent #porsche #cantwait)  on a yacht (#vacation #sunandseas #fishing #Ibizia), a photo showing him and another man in a suit holding out their arms showing off new watches (#matchingwithmybro #hanzo #imstilltheprettierbrother.)

“He’s a real life ‘rich kid of Instagram’.” Sombra looks up, face serious. “Jesse, he called you cute. You know what must be done. He can be your sugar daddy.”

“Yeah right,” Jesse huffs, then looks back again at the door, considering. “I mean, I guess, but he ain’t really my type.”

“Jesse, he’s _rich_ ,” Sombra shakes her head. “How is that not your type?”

“He’s full o’ himself, for one.”

Mei adjusts her glasses, then quips. “I didn’t think desperate _had_ a type.”

This time Sombra gets her high five.

* * *

 

Thanksgiving day rolls around and Jesse still can’t quite believe he’d agreed to crash a dinner party at one of the richest neighborhoods in San Diego.

He almost turns around half a dozen times on the thirty-minute drive to La Jolla. Which works out in his favor, since he was nervous and left way too early to be late like Genji wanted. He pauses at the gated entrance to the suburb to send the text, and Genji replies him back almost immediately. _This is it._ There is no more turning around. Jesse cranks down his window to punch the code. He almost expects the gate to remain shut, still half-convinced that this is all some sort of elaborate prank.

To both his relief and dismay, the gate cranks open, admitting him to the neighborhood. Rows of large homes, all red tiled roofs and stucco exteriors. Each house has to cost over a million dollars, easy. His van looks so far out of place he might as well be driving a polished turd. Jesse makes almost a full circle around  before he finds the house he’s looking for, and at any moment expects cops to show up and pull him over.

True to his word, Genji is standing outside the driveway to his home, dressed only a little less flamboyantly than the bar. He can see the man’s grin from here as he pulls up, and Genji opens the door wide, hoping in so he can direct him where to park. Every other car in the driveway is either brand new luxury model, or some sort of expensive classic, each one shining and sleek. The large picture windows are lit from within, casting light across a flawlessly manicured lawn, complete with a cascading fountain. He stifles a sigh as he van chugs towards the house. There’s a small group of people milling inside already, and Jesse cannot help but think about what a terrible idea this is, even if he is getting paid.

“This is the _best_ idea I’ve ever had.” Genji is practically vibrating in the seat next to him. “I’m so excited for this, you have no clue. It’s going to fucking priceless. Your outfit is even better than I imagined!”

“Glad you’re having fun.” He nervously grabs the brim of his hat, while trying to make himself sound calm and confident. “Just point out your family members  and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Genji gives him a reassuring pat then points.“You’ll do great, trust me. Park right here, between the Porsche and the Bentley. The Porsche is mine so try not to hit it. The ugly car is Hanzo's, so I don’t care. Also, take this.” He digs in his pocket, before pulling out a wrapped ring pop. “For a fake proposal, and I know a ring pop would be all you could afford. I’ll leave the timing up to you.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you're ridiculous?” He says, shoving the ring pop in his own pocket. His van sputters as he parks it, and he can only imagine the offended looks of the guests inside. It was certainly shaping up to be one heck of a night.

They make it halfway across the brick drive before he hears a door slam as someone storms out. Long hair tied back, a short goatee on the man’s bottom lip, black fitted suit and blue tie, a face like something out of a magazine and even under the suit he can see that suggestion of stocky musculature. He has to be Genji’s brother.

Like Genji, the man has strong eyebrows and a hawkish nose, but the resemblances part ways there. Where Genji exudes casual cockiness and playful sexiness, his brother carries himself with more of a cold arrogant pride.

“Genji. You’re late.” His voice is deep, almost husky, and Jesse finds himself biting his lip. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Genji gets his attention and by grabbing his hand, then throws an elbow into his rib as he fails to react. “Hanzo, meet my boyfriend!”

Jesse can feel himself staring. The other man has high cheekbones that seem to accentuate the angry set of his eyes, and it’s strangely attractive. Hanzo’s gaze meets his own,then his expression shifts. He looks as if he’s stepped in a particularly foul patch of mud.

“Howdy!” He finally remembers what he’s here for, and puts a casual arm over Genji’s shoulder.

“No.” Hanzo’s eyes narrow even more. “He looks like a hobo.”

“Yes he is!” Genji worms closer, placing a palm on his chest. “My boyfriend, that is. I’m ninety percent sure he’s _not_ a hobo. Don’t be hating because you’re jealous!”

To Jesse, he whispers. “Hanzo used to have a _thing_ for cowboys.”

“I am _not_ jealous.” Hanzo sneers. “You. Cowboy hobo. Go home.”

“He's totally jealous.” Genji again in his ear, and Jesse has to bite back his laugh.

To Hanzo, he tips his hat. “No can do, partner. I’m here to eat some nice ol’ turkey and meet the family Genji’s told me oh so much about.” He waggles his eyebrows for emphasis. Genji did say anything goes, and he had a feeling that Genji’s brother is easy to fluster. “Unless you wanna take me somewhere special?”

“You. are not. Genji’s date.” Hanzo hisses, his features contorting to an ugly scowl. _Bingo._

Genji giggles. “Hanzo, Hanzo, Hanzo, of course he is! Would I lie to you?”

_“Yes.”_

“Well, too bad. Besides,” Genji’s voice is a faintly lilting. “You're making a scene.”  

Hanzo looks around, realizing that a pair of curious guests are peeking through the window. His frown deepens, and it seems as if he barely keeps from groaning.

“Look.” He turns back to them, and Jesse can feel himself being sized up. With quick steps, Hanzo closes the space between them and digs a pointed finger in his chest. _“_ You have _no idea_ what you’re getting into. You have _no idea_ who we are. Whatever Genji has told you, angering my father is a very, very bad idea, and I assure you, that is exactly what you will be doing.”

It’d be a tad more imposing if he didn’t have several inches on him.  

He swats Hanzo's hand away.“I know exactly who y’all are, short stuff. Couple o’ rich pricks who think that us common folks should kneel over and kiss the ground beneath your feet. I’m lucky your brother’s got a good head on his shoulders compared to the rest of you.”

Hanzo visibly grits his teeth. “I am _trying_ to warn you, you _idiot_. Go back to whatever bench you call home.”

He shrugs, purposefully nonchalant.

“Genji, _be reasonable_.” The elder brother’s voice take on a note of pleading as he turns to his sibling. “Father will not tolerate this.”

The younger Shimada just rolls his eyes, shit eating grin still plastered on his face.  “We shall see, brother.”

From the driveway, it’s a short walk over to the porticoed entrance, flanked by marble columns and statues by the steps. He reaches for the doors, intending to hold them open like the gentleman he is, but he catches himself as they’re pulled open from the inside. Two uniformed staff members wait just through the entrance. Genji gives them a friendly wave and Hanzo gives a curt nod as they step through the doors. Jesse settles for tipping his hat, and he doesn’t miss the bewildered look he gets in exchange.

He stalls at the entrance to the dining room. The dinner table is set with the most impressive spread Jesse has ever seen. The centerpiece is a massive turkey, sitting on a bed of green on decorated platter, garnished with sage, rosemary, and slices of apples. Dishes of roasted vegetables, sweet mashed potato, and cranberry sauce are arranged artfully along the center, each one elegantly plated. Two pies sit on a tier plate, along with a basket of rolls. It looks almost too pretty to eat, but the smell is heavenly, and his stomach rumbles loudly.

A small party of maybe a dozen formally dressed men and women chat socially as they sit, eating quietly enough that the clink of silverware on plates is a charming background noise. Soft music is playing from somewhere, something classical and snobby. Genji’s casual t-shirt and baggy pants are out of place here. Jesse’s ripped jeans, worn flannel shirt, and battered cowboy hat is even worse.

“Oh look, there’s my father.” He points to the man at the head of the table.

Jesse squints to see him, while his stomach drops to his shoes. A face that seems cut from stone, hair pulled back into a neat ponytail and salted with gray, and neatly cropped, mostly white beard framing his jaw and chin. He can see the resemblance to both sons, though Hanzo especially seems to be a younger echo. As he stares, one of the doormen snakes past them, crossing the room to lean and whisper into the patron Shimada's ear. Shimada senior looks up, and Jesse swallows audibly as the man’s piercing gaze meets his.

No one has actually acknowledged them yet, and for a long second, Jesse considers dropping the charade, running as fast as his booted feet can carry him back home. Heck, if he leaves now, he can probably still make it to the Amari’s house in time for a real dinner, as opposed to one that looks to perfect to eat.

“Genji, your cowboy hobo seems to realize just how out of place he is.” Hanzo sounds unbelievably smug, brushing past them to enter the dining room.

That snarky, offhanded comment is all it takes for Jesse to throw caution to the wind. He has never backed down from a challenge, no matter the outcome.

“Sorry, Hanzo.” He wraps an arm around Genji's waist. “I forgot you types need people to spoon feed y’all. Must be hard, not knowing how to chew.”

Hanzo pauses, shoulders squaring. Apparently trading insults is now beneath him, instead, he offers a small shrug.  “It’s your funeral.”

 _Fucking asshole._ Jesse watches as he heads to the empty seat at his father’s side. If Hanzo wanted to pick a fight with him, well, he was on.

“Father and him seem to be in a good mood.” Genji sidles up closer, then grins wickedly. “Let's ruin it.”

They cross the threshold into the dining room, and he learns that Genji certainly knows how to make an entrance.

“Father! And my oh so dear brother!” Genji calls, in a voice that was meant to carry over the murmur of conversation, as if it did not just come to a screeching halt with his appearance.  “I apologize for being oh so late to our wonderful, lovely _family_ Thanksgiving. I was just so tired from running around all day, I almost didn’t make it! Jesse, carry me to my seat.”

“Wha-oof” He just barely reacts fast enough to shift as Genji places his arm around his neck and hauls himself upwards, leaving Jesse carrying him bridal style.

“It’s over there, sweetcheeks”  Genji points with his toe. “Right next to my dear old dad. Have you met?”

“Not yet, honey.” Jesse hefts Genji higher in his arms and walk,  even remembering to tip his hat at the stunned guests. _In for a penny, in for a pound._  When Hanzo cringes and pinches the bridge of his nose, he feels a sense of victory.

Their father ignores his younger son’s antics, simply continuing to eat like Genji didn't just drive a metaphorical bus through the window that was a fancy dinner party.  Genji’s seat is on his father’s left hand side, and he notices that there is only one open spot. He pushes the chair out with his foot, acutely  aware of every single pair of horrified eyes watching them. Hanzo, in particular, looks like he’s alternating between deciding to murder both them in cold blood and sheer disbelief.

“Here ya go.”  He drops Genji unceremoniously  into his seat, hearing the wood creak. “Looks like I’ll sit over there.”

At the other end of the table, the woman next to the lone empty seat makes a single, small, strangled noise.

“Nonsense! I’m sure my father just forgot that I was bringing a date to this family dinner. You can sit on my lap!” Genji pats his thighs.

“Get him a chair.” Hanzo hisses at one of the waitstaff, running his palm down his face. “Genji, I knew you were going to do something dumb, but this is _ridiculous.”_

Genji smiles brightly, ignoring the latter half of his brother’s comment.“Thank you Hanzo, you’re always looking out for me.”

Hanzo says nothing, only answering with a glare and another long-suffering sigh.

People have to push down for the chair to fit, interrupting the seating arrangement, but no one seems to want to say anything, as if they’re fearful of breaking the silence. He turns and calls to the waiter who brought his chair.

“Would ya mind getting me a plate too? I’m mighty hungry and this food looks pretty tasty.”

Hanzo cringes again. He should start keeping a tally.

“Genji.” The father finally addresses his son. “Did you bring those invoices to the office like I asked you?”

That seems to be some sort of cue, and at once the guests seem to resume their conversations, filling the room again with quiet chatter.

“Nope.” Genji says, rocking back on the chair, knee cocked against the edge of the table. “I had other shit to do. Like my boyfriend.”  

Jesse jumps as Genji drops his hand easily on his knee and squeezes, before covering his surprise with a wave. “Howdy.”

Shimada senior doesn’t even look at him. Maybe earning that extra five hundred would be harder than he thought.

If Genji was a bus, Jess figures he could up the ante. Metaphorical train, maybe.

“I can see where Genji got it from.” He pushes his hat back on his head, nods appreciatively like he’s looking a horse over for auction. “You’re a dilf for sure.”

There is no perceptible reaction from Shimada senior, though from across the table. Hanzo’s eyes bug, and he shakes his head slowly, expression grim.  Someone to his left starts choking. Genji snorts.

“Genji, Hanzo.” Both sons look up, Genji still lolling back in his chair. “Remove yourselves. I wish to have words with Genji’s...guest. Hanzo, _deal_ with your brother.”

Genji’s chair hits the floor with a soft thump, and Jesse can see the flicker of nervousness that flashes across his face.  

“This was a just a jo-”

A sharp look silences him, and both brothers stand, leaving the room quietly.

Jesse realizes that just maybe, Genji hadn’t really meant that ‘anything goes.’

He slouches down into his chair, trying to make himself smaller. Even with the other guests still present in the room, he feels strangely isolated. Shimada senior shifts subtly in his seat, taking a fork and knife into both hands, long fingers wrapping around the handles like weapons. His head snaps up and his eyes focus on him, and Jesse feels his breath stutter in his throat as fear spikes through his chest.

“I would call you an idiot, but that is too kind.” The man reaches over, stabbing the fork into the turkey with a thunk. Jesse flinches.  “You have _no idea_ who I am. It is beyond your comprehension. My youngest son is impulsive and manipulative, and the fact that this charade of a relationship has entered into my household means you are far to ignorant too see it.”

He stumbles for words, wanting to defend himself but unsure of what to say. Shimada senior continues, carving himself slices of turkey as he talks, voice pitched just loud enough for him to hear.

“I could have you gutted like a pig, your lifeless body thrown into a ditch with my personal signature carved into your forehead, and face no repercussions. Your life means nothing to me.”

The sentence is spoken calmly, with the barest hint of emotion. Jesse gulps. “Sir-”

“Do not speak. I’d rather not have my party further sullied by your idiocy. Now let me continue. Having you killed would be easy. Are you employed?”

He nods, wide-eyed.

“I could have your place of employment bought, and fire everyone you work with. I can guarantee you will never have another career anywhere, as long as you live. No matter where you go.  That is the kind of influence I have. Do you understand?”

He nods again.

“Let's make sure this lesson _really_ sinks in.” The man holds up a piece of turkey, turning it back and forth. “If I desired, I could have you drugged up, past incoherency, and I could sell you like a piece of meat by the end of the night. No one at this house would so much as blink. I could have your tongue removed from your head. I could take the fingers from your hands and the eyes from your face. I could go on but I do believe you are seeing my point.”

He really, really wishes he’d just gone and eaten dinner at the Amari’s house like he originally planned.

“If you have any wish to remain as a functional human being, and never wish to draw my ire again, you will eat dinner quietly, and cease to make an embarrassment of yourself. You will then leave, and you will never, ever contact my son again. I will not tolerate anything else.”

He swallows and tries not to look like a deer in headlights.

A phone call saves him. From Shimada senior’s suit pocket he hears the faint tune of something upbeat and catchy. Without a word, the man stands to answer the call,  walking away hurriedly and replying in hushed Japanese.  Jesse sits at the table, and waits, for what he’s not sure. He’s afraid to walk away without being dismissed, and he’s infinitely more scared of waiting to long.

Minutes later, all three return. He catches Genji’s eye, as he stands slouched behind his brother and father. Genji puts his finger to his lips in a shushing motion, and then _winks_.

He’s not in the least bit reassured.

Their father clears his throat and gives a small bow. “Forgive me, my  honored guests, I have business I must attend to and I shall take my leave for the time being. I leave you in the capable hands of my eldest son, and if I do not return before the end of the evening, I wish you all a fond holiday.” He exits the room. Jesse keeps his head down, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself.

“Thank you, Father. Please, continue to enjoy the night, and let us hope that my father’s business doesn’t hold him too long.” Hanzo smiles at the room, though it looks forced, before sitting back down at the table 

Genji sits as well, almost flouncing. They help themselves to their meals, neither one saying a word. Like this was _normal_.

“Genji.” Jesse hisses and jabs an elbow into his ribs. “Genji, _what the hell_.”

“Hrm?” Genji tilts his head quizzically, his mouth full of mashed potatoes. “Did my dad scare you?”

“He said he was going to _sell_ my _body parts_.” He looks around the room again, half afraid that Shimada senior was going to appear back over his shoulder. “I’m leaving.”

“What no, don’t!” Genji protests. “Was it the _‘I’m rich enough to kill you and get away with it’_ speech? He does that to everyone I bring home. He doesn’t actually _mean_ it.”

“Well, it worked, it was fun while it lasted.” Jesse digs for his keys and starts to stand. “I’m getting out of here.”

“He’s not lying, for once.”  Hanzo cuts in, “Father does give that speech to all of Genji’s dates. Most of them run, so there’s no shame in fleeing.”

The  mocking tone is back, and Jesse sits back down with a thump. “Who says I’m leaving?”

“You did.” Hanzo points with his fork.

He bristles.“Changed my mind, because fuck you.”

“It’s nice to see Genji has found someone as ill-mannered as he is. You two make a lovely couple.”

“Aniki, stop antagonizing him, he’s poor.” Genji pats his shoulder in what he thinks is meant to be soothing. “Besides, father won’t be back for awhile, right?”

“It depends on how long they can keep him occupied.” Hanzo pulls his sleeve back, eyeing a smart watch. “Two hours, at most.”

“Thanks, Aniki. You’re the best.” Genji grabs the plate of stuffing, scrapping it onto Jesse’s plate. “You’re a chef, right? Try something!”

Jesse forces a grin at Hanzo, before cutting himself his own slice of turkey. “Don’t mind if I do.”

 

* * *

 

Forty-five minutes and several glasses of wine later, both brothers have relaxed significantly. Hanzo opens up to the point he can be considered almost polite and underneath his stilted replies Jesse gets a hint of dry humor. Genji, on the other hand, is definitely enjoying himself. The younger Shimada is not only a huge flirt, but quick-witted and playful. He spends the rest of the dinner being battered with questions, while Hanzo occasionally cuts in with curt quips, and Jesse does his best to not become a butt of their jokes.

Genji grabs at his pants pocket, and he nearly drops his fork. “Lemme see your wallet.”

“Why?”

“Curiosity.” Genji shrugs. “Just let me look.”

“Sure,” He shifts, digging in his back pocket.  “but if just gonna tell me I’m poor again, keep your trap shut.” He’s never really considered his own wallet before, but he feels a sense of shame as he hands it over. It’s years old, faded and cracked leather, coming apart at the seams and barely holding together. There had been a logo stamped on the front but years of being sat on had left it smoothed down to only faint impressions.

 Jesse tries not to wince as Genji takes it, holding the corner like it’s a dead mouse. “Is this duct tape?”

Hanzo snickers from across the table.

“Yeah.” He mutters, tugging his hat down.

“Y’know I probably have an old one you can have.”  Genji opens it, then pulls out his license. “That’s what I was looking for. Hah, you have such a baby face without the beard, wow.”

Hanzo reaches over, snagging the card. The man holds it up to his face, eyes flicking back and forth as Jesse watches.  “You do, haha. Where _did_ Genji find you?”

“We’re in love, Hanzo.” Genji leans back, practically falling into his lap. “It’s pure and real and we’re going to get married and you’ll be my best man.”

Hanzo gives a tiny laugh, almost fond.“I don’t believe a word you say.” He looks at the license again, a wide smile crossing his face. “Genji, what’s his middle name?”

Genji sits back up straight, placing his elbows on the table. “That’s easy. James.”

Jesse nearly chokes on his water, trying to swallow his laugh.

Hanzo smirks, lips pursed, knowing he’s caught Genji in a lie. “Why’s the initial R then?”

Genji hesitates for a split second. “He has two?”

“Two.” Hanzo replies, flatly unamused.

“Yeah. It’s uh….Jesse Rick James McCree.”

Jesse cackles and finger guns. “That’s right, I’m Jesse Rick James McCree. Bitch.”

Genji and Hanzo both burst out laughing, and he feels like maybe they aren’t as big assholes as he initially thought.

 

* * *

 

The party eventually moves out to the backyard, clustering around the marble inlaid pool and hot tub. The conversation has mostly returned to normal, most guest doing their best to ignore Genji and the cowboy wannabe, which Jesse is grateful for. Despite agreeing to stay, he doesn’t want any more people complaining about him to the Senior Shimada.

Hanzo acts at party host in his father’s stead, exchanging pleasantries with guests about whatever topic they corner him about. Genji doesn’t stray too far from his side, which leaves Jesse following behind. It seems despite Genji’s blustering, he’s almost as out of place as Jesse is, and looks to his brother for support. It’s a little sad, he thinks, how lonely it must be to grow up in a place like this.

Eventually, as the party winds down, a few people approach Genji and him, attempting to engage them in conversation. He gets a kick out of giving different answers to the question of what, exactly, his job is.

“Stripper.” He tells an older couple. They exchange glances, walking away quickly.

“Quality assurance tester for dildos.” To a trio of middle-aged men in suits.

“I’m a boot model.” To the lady from the end of the table.

“I live off welfare.” That last one is met by a gasp, and he grins in response. “Always looking fer a sugar daddy though.”

He can hear Genji laughing behind him, and an exasperated sigh that has to be Hanzo. The wrapper for the ring pop crinkles in his pocket. Now is as good a  time as any.

He clears his throat. “Y’all I gotta announcement. Hotstuff?”

Genji spins, gasping loudly enough to draw the attention of the entire party. Hanzo groans loudly, burying his face into his palm.

He pulls out the ring pop, now half melted from riding in his pocket for two hours. “Genji Shimmy-yada,” he butchers the last name, making sure to add extra syllables and really draw the whole thing out. “Would ya do me the honor of making me the happiest man alive?”

The small crowd collectively gasps, before a smattering of laughter breaks out. Jesse struggles to keep a straight face, as Genji puts his hand to his forehead, swooning.

“Jesse Rick James McCree! I cannot, for my heart belongs to another.” Genji hunches his shoulders, turning away.

“Suit yourself.” He swivels ninety degrees, still kneeling, and offers the ring pop to Hanzo instead. “The also cute but really grumpy Shimada, how ‘bout you?”

He _thinks_ he sees the tiniest, almost imperceptible flicker of a smile at Hanzo’s mouth, though it’s mostly hidden by his palm. Cracking  a grin, he tries to think of something else to say, when Hanzo’s eyes widen and he suddenly stands upright. Jesse  whirls, hearing swift angry footsteps from behind.

“I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE.”

“Oh fuck-” He scrambles to his feet, eyes darting for a way out, an exit, anything. “Fucking fuck.”

Shimada senior, bearing down on him like some sort of angry dragon, or so is the first thought that comes to mind. “HOW DARE YOU-”

“Run Jesse!” Genji shouts. “Run like your life depends on it!”

The man is close enough he can see the bulging vein in his forehead, and he’s flanked by the two men from the door. He should have left when he had the chance.

Jesse takes Genji’s advice and books it.

 


	2. About What I Think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse's falling hard, Hanzo's tired of everything, Genji.....Genji is having some issues
> 
> Alternate title: HERE HAVE SOME PLOT, SHITS GONNA GET A LITTLE HEAVY  
> relevant warnings for this chapter: 
> 
> mentions of alcohol/drug use/abuse
> 
> slight/possible implications of using sex to pay for things? it's like one sentence so idk how I should warn for that 
> 
> Thank you a million time over to Iz (aka goodluckdetective/scorpiontales) for the beta read and nitpicks
> 
> she suffers so you don't have to
> 
> now also featuring guest editing by Daf, the best defense against unessecary commas this side of the planet

 

“I had to jump the fucking _fence._ ”  

Ana stares him down, with a look in her eyes that has never once meant good things for Jesse. She's resting her palm on her chin, fingers tapping against her lips. He can see tell she's deciding on whether it's worth it or not to give him a lecture.

He forestalls her, holding up his hand. “I _know_ it was stupid. I haven't run that fast since I was probably fourteen. Turns out I ain't nearly as spry as I used to be. Thought I was going to have a goddamned heart-attack if the angry rich guy didn't murder me first."

The three of them are at Ana’s small house, seated in her cozy den. They hadn’t been expecting him, as he texted Fareeha a few days ago _‘thnx for the invite but I got plans;)’_ When he'd knocked on the door at nearly nine PM, limping with his best flannel button down sans sleeve, it'd been a bit of a surprise. Ana was ever the prepared host, though, and immediately heading to her kitchen to prepare a plate of leftovers desserts to feed him, all while tutting over his mussed appearance.

Every last muscle, from his neck to his shoulders to his bruised behind, is sore. He’s going to be stiff as a board tomorrow. Reaching for another of Ana’s pastries, he tries to hide his wince as his muscles twinge in protest.

“You are _ridiculous_." Fareeha exchanges a glance with her mother, another look he recognizes, the trademark “you’re an absolute imbecile” look. It’s bad enough when one directs it at you. But two? When both Amari's think you're an idiot, well, you're probably an idiot. "I thought you'd smarten up as you got older but it seems only the opposite has happened."

He shrugs. “Guess you got all the brains growing up. I got the charming good looks and my charismatic personality, so it evens out.”

"If it was anyone else, I wouldn't believe them.” Fareeha rolls her eyes while her mother snickers. “Seriously, you ran screaming from a ring-pop proposal?”

“No. “ He replies with a mouth full of pastry. “I ran away, yelling _like a man_ , after the cute craigslist guy said no and I proposed to his really-mean-but-really- _really_ -hot-brother.”

"Oh, so he must have shot you down too." Fareeha leans in, her tone faintly teasing. "Or did he?"

"Never got a chance to answer, though I'm sure it would have been Amélie level of snarky." He rubs at his chin, recalling the last few hours.  "Genji was nice enough, personality wise, but kid's got some authority issues or something. Funny as heck, though."

“And the really hot one?”

“Said his name was Hanzo. He’s meaner than a snake, snooty, arrogant, and cold as hell. But hot _damn_ , was he easy on the eyes.” He lets out a long sigh, shaking his head. “ I’m telling you, Pharah, he should be on the cover of a magazine. Or in movies. Damn shame about his personality.”

She arches her eyebrows, though she wears a small smile at the use of her childhood nickname. “Well, I'd be pretty pissed if someone dressed like a background character in a budget western came to ruin my Thanksgiving uninvited. Maybe you got off on the wrong foot.”

“I’d get off on the wrong anything with that guy.” He quips, earning a swat from Ana.

Surreptitiously he rubs at his shoulder as they talk. It had been a hell of a lot easier to scale a fence when he'd been ninety pounds soaking wet, over a decade ago. There'd been a brief moment where'd he thought he wasn't going to be able to pull himself over the top. The thought of Shimada Senior catching him and gutting him like a pig had given him enough adrenaline to haul himself up and then over, into a less than graceful tumble. Lucky he hadn't landed head first.

 _Stupid, stupid._ Gabe would have tanned his hide if he'd pulled something like this as a teenager. All for a handful of cash and a story to add to his already impressive repertoire. He's done dumber things for less, but only barely. He just wishes that he'd left the Shimadas on better terms. Not because he'd like to see either brother again, though. It'd just be nice to have rich friends.

“Continue your tale, so I know just whose fault it is that you couldn't even make it to dinner tonight.” Ana prods and with a start Jesse realizes he’s lapsed into silence.

He clears his throat and picks up the thread again. “Anyway, I’m fricken twenty-eight years old and I jumped a fence like I was on an episode of Cops. I’m _still_ hurting. Cuff got caught on the fence on the way down and I landed ass first on top of some rock. Thought for sure I broke something. I think I gotta bruise that takes up a whole damn buttcheck.”  

Soft laughter warms the room, and Jesse finds himself cracking a smile despite his misadventures.

“How’d you get your van back?”

"Genji, I think. Sent me a text that it was at an impound lot, but that's better than it being set on fire, I suppose. Still spent the better part of an hour arguing with the lot attendants, and I had to pay out the nose to get it back. Out of the cash he gave me, I'm down to…." Opening his sad, battered, wallet, he counts out three twenties, two ones and a handful of change. "Sixty-two dollars and seventy-five cents."

Fareeha stares at him, head shaking in faint disbelief. "So not only did you somehow piss off one of the wealthiest families in the area, you made almost _nothing_ for it?"

“That's about the long and short if it.”  He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “I mean _technically_ Genji owes me another five hundred, but I ain't counting on ever seeing them again.”

“That is the smartest thing you've said all night.” Ana grouses, her tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. “I was ready to call Gabi when you came limping through my door. I half expected sirens in my driveway to follow.”

“Hey now, that hasn't happened in almost six years. I ain't even had a parking ticket!’

“Yes, but that is not so long a time.” Ana retorts. “And trouble always seemed to follow you like a shadow. Gabriel spent many evenings here wondering if this was the night you turned up in a hospital, or worse. So you can see why I was worried.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry.”  He reaches over to give her a fond pat. “I'm lucky I had y'all watching my back.”

“Ewwww.” Fareeha wrinkles her nose and sticks her tongue out at them both. “Jesse, you've turned into such a big softie. I can't believe I used to think you were _cool_.”

“I'm still cool!” He gestures to his torn clothing. “I mean c’mon, who  else would be able to pull off a crazy stunt like this on Thanksgiving?”

“Mom’s right, you’re lucky you didn't get arrested.”

"Pssh, y'all just don't know how to have fun anymore. I've heard the stories, Ana, I know." He waggles a finger in the direction of the only decent mother figure in his life. "Something about crazy Halloween parties and getting in trouble with your commanders?"

Ana takes a prim sip of her tea before replying. “I simply do not recall.”

They talk for another hour or so, until the desserts are gone and Ana seems to be nodding off in her seat.

Fareeha stands first, with a yawn and a stretch. “It’s late and I'm pulling a double at Helix tomorrow. I’m going to take off for the night.”

Jesse's working tomorrow as well, with Zarya again. Pharah fills in at Overwatch part time, usually on the bar. Gabe and Jack both typically worked almost everyday they were open, as the head chef and front of house manager respectively, but they were still on vacation. Which reminded him-

“Mom, do you know if Jack is getting back the same time Gabe is? Sunday morning?” Pharah must be thinking the same thing. “Amélie asked me to cover for her and I don’t have office keys, but if Jack’s going to be back I don’t need them.”

Ana stands, gathering plates to take to the kitchen. “I certainly hope so. They're on the same flight.”

“So wait, they _are_ dating?” He frowns. “How come Gabe never told me that?”

“Oh please.” The elder Amari shakes her head, the tone dismissive.  “They are the essence of on again, off again. This is the first time Gabe has gone with him to Indiana in probably two decades.”

"Amélie was right, I don't believe it." He tips his hat back, scratching at his forehead. "I knew they kinda had a love-hate thing going on, but I thought for sure it was way more of the hate side."

Ana laughs at that. “You’re both too young to remember. Back when we were all still enlisted those two were attached at the hip. They went through spec ops together, and graduated top of the class.”

"What happened?" Pharah asks as she tugs on her jacket.

“Promotions and fights and deployments and stress. A soldier's life is hard, doubly so if both partners are serving. The last fight they had was the worst I’ve seen. So this resolution was a long time coming.”

Jesse catches Pharah's eye, she shakes her head and she shrugs. Apparently, she thought the same thing he did.

Ana sees it and stares them both down, expression serious.  "Don't you two harass them when they get back, just let them have this on their own terms. It’s good for them."

They both leave Ana’s at the same time, after she hugs them both tightly and tells him again that he should really stay out of trouble.  He gets another hug from Pharah as he heads towards his van, tight enough that he gripes about her trying to break him in half.

“See you Sunday, Pharah.”

As she turns towards her own car, she waves. “Try not to ruin any more holiday parties this week.”

He beams. “No promises.”

* * *

 

Late Sunday morning, he finds the back door are already unlocked. It’s forty-five minutes until they open for business, so no one else should be in yet. Pushing cautiously inward, he can hear the sound of Latin radio echoing through the kitchen. _Gabe must be here_. He rounds the corner, passing around the freezer, just in time to see Gabe dipping Jack in a twirl between the cook line and dishwashing station.

Jesse applauds his bosses, loud enough to be heard over the music, and is rewarded by watching the normally quiet front end manager turn a shade of red equivalent to a ripe tomato. Gabe pulls the other man upright, unlike his dance partner not flushing in embarrassment, though he’s wearing a sheepish smile.

"So, y'all had a good vacation?" Jesse asks, leaning against the wall. There were several other things he could have said, but true to his word to Ana, he'll stick to the safest greeting.

"It was okay." Gabe says, nonchalant. "Indiana's boring, but relaxing."

“It was great.” Jack is still red, but he's grinning now. He looks happier than he has in a very long time, almost youthful despite his thinning hair and glasses.  “My family hasn't seen Gabe in years, so it was sort of a reunion.” He peers around the kitchen, before looking back over to Jesse. “How'd you and Ana manage things while we were gone?”

He answers with a shrug, pulling his chef coat off the hook. “Honestly it was pretty quiet. Friday was the busiest day, and that Sunday before you left. Everything's still in one piece kitchen side, and nothing crazy from the front.”

"Speaking of crazy, Mijo,” Gabe teases, as he busies himself with starting the grill and fryer. “ I heard you had an interesting Thanksgiving,"

It’s a welcome change to see his bosses in good spirits, as if the vacation had revitalized them both. Not that either one were lax on health; Jack and Gabe are still very fit even in their early fifties.

He winces. “Ana texted you?”

“Yeah, but no details. She did say to make sure I ask you about my new son in law?” Gabe tilts his head, questioning, arms crossed over his chest.“So kid, what the hell did you do?”’

“It’s mostly Som’s fault.” He tells them. It’s going on half a dozen times he’s repeated  story already. At this point, he’s embellished it, cutting out the more embarrassing parts.  By the time he gets to the part about the ring pop, both Gabe and Jack are laughing hard enough that they have tears in the corners of their eyes. Pharah comes in halfway through to open the front, she's on the bar today, and she just shakes her head at the scene as she walks by.

“Make sure you tell them about the big gay crush you have on the mean one.”

“I’m getting there, dammit.” He says, waving her off. “An’ it’s not a crush, it’s an appreciation for nature’s art. He was the prettiest damn human I have ever seen.”

* * *

 

The high spirits are infectious, and even for a slow Sunday night, the staff at Overwatch are all in good mood. Jesse’s humming to himself, working on prep for the upcoming days, mind still replaying the events of Thursday night. Maybe he should text Genji again. Ask for Hanzo's number. Nah, they’ve probably have already forgotten about him. It’d be weird. _‘Hey guy who I only know from the internet. I keep thinking about how attractive I find your horrendously rude brother, do ya mind if you give me his digits?’_ He chuckles to himself, under his breath. _Yeah fucking right._

"Yo, Jesse!" Sombra's is inches from his ear, and he damn near jumps out of his skin.  "You have a visitor. It's the other Shimada? The older one." Gabe's music and the normal hustle of the kitchen makes conversation impossible, and he wasn't paying much attention to begin with. At least she had the courtesy to wait till he'd put his knife down, lest he lose a finger.

“What?” He’s sure he misheard her, and he reaches over to turn down the radio. Gabe yells from the cooler that he was ‘listening to that.’ “You serious?”

His heart is racing and it has nothing to do with being startled.

Sombra nods, then leans onto her tiptoes so she can poke him in the chest.  "You didn't say he was that good looking, though. _Damn_.”

“I _know._ ” Jesse runs his hand through his hair.  “You _sure_ it’s him, and he’s here for me?”

"Well, he said he was a Shimada, and he asked for ‘the cowboy cook.' Plus the other one had bright green hair so I don't think I'd get them mixed up."

“Shit,” Jesse turns back to the prep station, toying with the edge of his coat, suddenly nervous. He spins again, rubber kitchen clogs squeaking on the tile floor.“Why do you think he’s here?”

Sombra shrugs. “What am I, a mind reader? Go and ask him yourself.”

“Right.”  He wipes his hands on his coat.“How do I look?”

She rolls her eyes. “Like a fucking line cook, so gross and sweaty and you smell like french fries. I thought you didn’t like him anyway?”

“I don’t, but I also don’t want ta be a mess, y’know?”

Rounding the corner, Gabe guffaws, carrying a binful of frozen meat for prep.

“That's a lie if I’ve ever heard one.” Sombra crosses her arms over her chest as she settles her heels back on the floor. “You’ve got it bad, amigo.”

“Ok. Fair.” He holds up a finger. “I’m interested, but only like, _aesthetically_. Eye-candy type. I'll look all damn day, but as for actually dating, well, I ain't gonna make the mistake of being with a self-centered prick again."

Sombra just arches a cool eyebrow at him.  “Ok, so are  you gonna go talk to him or should I go tell him to fuck off?”

He paces to the kitchen door, peeking through the small window. It’s definitely the older brother, sitting at the end of the bar closest to the kitchen, elbows on the counter, and a small frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. Pharah looks towards up in time to see him through the glass, she tilts her head, when he mouths yup she gives him an approving nod.

“I don’t get why’d he come here?” He steps back, looking down at Sombra. “Maybe you can-

She shoves him from behind and he stumbles through the door before he can stop himself. “Get your gay ass out there, I got work to do.”

Hanzo looks up as the door swings open, his expression doesn’t change.

Feeling foolish, Jesse gives a lame little wave as he steps closer. The door creeks closed behind him, cutting him off from the kitchen. He swallows.  “Uh...Hey. Wasn’t really expecting to see you ever again.”

The other man blinks. “I just wanted to..I’m sorry, but _what_ is that on your face?”

"My face?" Jesse reaches up to pat at his head before he remembers the beard net. "Oh, heh. Sorry. Forgot to take it off. They don't want me shedding in the food." He pulls it free and tosses it in the trash.

The man’s expression only changes a fraction, but Jesse thinks he sees an uptick at the corner of his lips.  “It’s a good look for you.”

“Aw, I bet you tell that to all the pretty cooks.” Jesse finds himself saying before he can stop himself. So maybe he _was_ flirting, but that was just because the man was easy to fluster.

Hanzo snorts. “I actually came to ask if you…”

As he talks, Jesse notices Sombra inching her way behind Hanzo's back. She gives him an exaggerated wink and thumbs up, before taking her thumb and forefinger to make a circle, and puts her index through it.  He sticks his tongue out at her.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Whu-yeah.”  He focuses back to Hanzo, who is frowning at him.

“I just told you my brother is missing.”

“Oh.” He blinks. “Oh _shit,_ I'm sorry. He’s missing?”

Hanzo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in a well-worn gesture. “More accurately, he’s being Genji. It's not _exactly_ unusual. I just hoped since you seem to be the last person he slept with you might have an idea where he went.”

“Not a clue.” Jesse shakes his head, apologetic.  “And, actually,  I never met him before last Saturday night. He kinda sorta hired me to crash your dinner party. Never dated him.”  He clarifies, and offers Hanzo a smile.

“Oh.” This time it’s Hanzo’s turn to look surprised, though he covers it quickly with annoyance. “I don’t know why I expected any different. I knew you weren’t dating, but I thought...I mean, I should of know, Genji’s tastes do not usually run so..” He trails off, with narrowing eyes and teeth worrying his lip.

“So what?” Jesse probes. So far Hanzo has been polite, but just because he’s handsome doesn’t mean he gets to be rude.

“It’s not important.” Hanzo waves his hand, dismissive. _So he’s still an asshole._

“No, what were you gonna say?” He crosses his arms and squares his shoulders. “'nother quip ‘bout how fuckin’ poor I am?”

Hanzo’s expression grows stony. It’s apparent he doesn’t like it when someone stands up to him.

“No, that would be low hanging fruit.”

“Hate to tell you, Mister Trust Fund,” Jesse snaps. “But not all o’ us were born with a goddamned silver spoon in our mouths an’ daddy’s money as a safety net. Us real folk gotta work fer a living.”

Sombra takes her phone out and holds it up, thumb pressed to the screen. He glowers at her, then back at Hanzo as the man smirks.

“Oh, I’m sure your felony arrests, court cases, and juvenile record meant you have worked _real hard.”_

“‘An’ how the fuck, ‘zactly, do you know ‘bout that?”

“It’s public record, obviously.” Hanzo meets him glare for glare. “And, by the way, are you aware that your accent makes you absolutely _indecipherable_ as you lose control of your temper? You sound like you are chewing your words.”

“My-” He sputters. “Answer my question. What were ya gonna say?”   With a conscious effort, he dials back on his anger.

Hanzo’s brow furrows, and he hisses his reply. “I was going to call you ‘hirsute’ before you decided to place words in my mouth. I realized that your vocabulary might be as limited as your funds, so for the sake of conversation, I changed my mind.”

With a start, Jesse realizes he’s leaning over the counter into the other man’s space. Their faces are only inches apart, Hanzo refusing to give any ground.

“Hirsute?” Jesse backs down and admittedly it does take him a moment to recall the definition.  “That’s a real nice way of saying I’m shaggy.”

Hanzo sneers. “It’s the nicest word I can think of for someone who has to wear a beard net so he won’t shed.”

“Well, shit. That’s almost a compliment.”

“Ah yes. Just like you almost have manners.”  

He doesn’t have the patience to trade insults, especially when he has the sinking feeling that he would lose. Nevermind the fact that this guy gets under his skin quicker than anyone else he’s ever met.

“It was real _nice_ talkin' to you." The words come through gritted teeth. "I'll keep an eye out for your brother, but don't count on it. Take your shit and get out of my bar, and have a nice life." He turns and stomps back to the kitchen.

He thinks he hears Hanzo calling for him to wait, but he's already pushing through the swinging door and back into the heat of the kitchen. Gabe shoots him a questioning look, but for once says nothing.

He heads back out to the bar a few minutes later, to refill his water. Hanzo is gone, and he tells himself that the feeling in his gut is relief. Sombra is standing at the drink station, texting, and he leans over to try and peak. He can just see that it’s Amélie at the top of the screen.

“Were you filming that?”

She shrugs. “Snapchat. I didn't know if you were going to punch him or make out with him. I sent it to Ames.”

He stifles a groan. Now the whole damn restaurant was going to give him a hard time.

_“Why?”_

Sombra holds up her free hand, pointer upward. “One: because you are a ceaseless source of entertainment. And two: because she would _love_ him. He's so _mean_. They’d be besties.”

Pharah snickers, coming over to join them. “She’s so right. You seem like guys who got a bit of sass.”

"No way in hell.” He shakes his head, trying to ignore the disappointment in the pit of his stomach.  “That's not sass, that's downright being an asshole. He's frustrating, is all."

"Sexually frustrating, you mean." Sombra smirks. "Did you give him your number?"

“No? He was just looking for his brother and I don't have any idea where he is. So why would I want to after that?”

“So he can booty call you? Duh.” Sombra pokes him the chest, again. “And are you forgetting he’s rich? Like, I feel this could be very beneficial for you, and therefore, as one of your best and only friends, me.”

“I have plenty of friends.”

“Coworkers don’t count.” Pharah settles next to them, bumping into his shoulder as he tries to sip his drink.

He bumps back. “Thanks, Pharah. I thought you'd be in my side least.”

“We’re practically siblings, so don't expect me to help you.”

“Ok that’s it. I’m going back to the kitchen, where at least Gabe’s got my back. Good-bye and don’t come complaining to me when I cook you shitty food.”

Back on the line, Gabe motions him close, throws an arms around his shoulder and tugging him off balance. “Kid, here’s some advice. Don’t bring your dates to work. It _never_ works out.”

“Says the guy who’s boning the front house manager.” He shoves Gabe away, the head chef laughing as he goes back to the grill.

* * *

 

His van trundles slowly up the street towards home. The restaurant had closed on time, but almost all the staff that night had stayed late to chat at the bar, till Gabe had finally kicked them all out. Jesse’s the furthest a human can be from attentive and still legally driving, so he doesn't hear the groan from the back as he rolls over a pothole. It's only as he nears his drive, street lights slowing passing overhead, that he catches a glimpse of something a shade of neon yellow or perhaps green that he is pretty sure he would never intentionally buy. Maybe a co-worker had left something in his van. Sombra, in particular, was found of garish colors, and would sometimes throw shit in the back for safekeeping.

He adjusts his mirror, peering into the darkness behind him, as he tries to figure out what, exactly, he is looking at.  Maybe a scarf, or part of a sweater?

At first, he can only make out the usual mess of worn guitar amp, a few bags, a mound of clothes,  cables for his guitars-

The neon green sits up.

Jesse  _screams._

The van squeals to a halt in the middle of an intersection as he stomps on his brakes. The tires leave a trail of snaking skid marks on the concrete.

_“Genji?!”_

The stowaway is lying now face first on the messy floor. Jesse cranes around the passenger seat to see him.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing in my van?” His voice still sounds high in his own ears.

Genji shakily rolls to his side. “Shiiiit man.” He blinks slowly, like he’s coming out of a deep sleep. “You scream like a chick.”

“T-that was my brakes.” He mutters, and clears his throat. “More importantly, _what the fuck_ are you doing _here?”_

“I'm good, thanks.” his words are slurred, and Genji lets himself go lax again, slumping so his forehead is pressed against the floor.

Jesse forces himself to unclench his grip from the steering wheel. His hands are shaking, he’d thought he was getting fucking jumped.

“That’s not what I asked you, but okay. Glad you’re good. Now back to what I _did_ ask. _What. Are you doing. In. My. Van?”_

Genji lolls his face upward, focusing his gaze few feet to his right of Jesse’s head.

“Genji?” he prompts. The kid seems like he's either really drunk, or maybe on something.

Several more seconds tick by before he gets an answer.

“Needed a place... to lie low for a bit. Oh!” Genji sticks his arm straight up, finger wavering in the air. “I owe you. Owe you _money_. Yeah. Dad was mad. Mad mad. Good shit, you won.” He laughs again, though the sound is off-kilter, huffs of air that sound closer to a sob. _Yup,_ _definitely not sober._

“Genji.” He waits till Genji’s looking mostly at him again. “Your brother was looking for you, do you wanna call him? So you can _go home_.”

“No! No no no.”The words are vehement, and he sees Genji try to pull himself upright, using the handle on the back if the seat. He manages to get halfway before he flops against the door, still shaking his head. “Can't go right now, dad will kill me. _Kill me_.”

“Well, you can't stay here.”

The both jump as someone honks from behind them, and he turns his attention back to the road long enough to pull over to the sidewalk. He pities Genji, really, but this was way more shit that he really, really doesn’t want to get involved in. Not now, not ever again.

Genji tilts forwards, so he’s leaning on hands and knees. He speaks more to the floor than to Jesse. As if he’s begging. “Why not? I-I'll pay you.”

"I-" He should drive the kid back home. Dealing with someone this drunk is a chore, plus he has work tomorrow. For a brief moment, he considers making the trip, before recalling the last sight he'd seen of Shimada senior's face as he scrambled away from the fence. Showing up at almost midnight with a very inebriated Genji seems like a very good way to get arrested. Or go missing.

Damn, maybe he should have gotten Hanzo’s number.

“Please?” Genji crawls forward, craning his head upward and reaching out to place his palm on Jesse’s leg. “I’m fun, and I can give you _anything_...money, weed, whatever. Don’t make me go home.”  It takes him a second before he realizes that the kid is trying to give him puppy eyes.

“Genji, I’m not so sure-”

Genji nuzzles his nose into his knee, wrapping both hands around his thigh. _“Anything._ ” He can just make the word out. He pulls his leg away, more sharply than he intended.

“Ok, alright, sit back down. You can stay. Just....  Shit, kid, what the hell.” He rubs his palms into his eyes. “What the fuck.”

To his immense relief, Genji settles back, leaning against the door again and folding up to hang his head between his knees.

He cringes as he remembers doing much the same, sitting in the hallways of some shithole apartment, desperate for a place to stay. Years and years ago, before anyone had bothered to even look at him twice. Before someone had cared. Different circumstances but in the end, the same feeling. He sighs. “Can you call your brother at least?”

“Hanzo...hahaha, no. He doesn’t give a fuck about me.” It almost sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. “He just wants the brownie points with Dad.”  

"Genji,..." He trails off, not sure where he was going with it. The kid's a mess, and probably in no state to listen to sympathies nor advice. _Later_ , he decides. For now, he pulls out onto the road and heads to his apartment. From the back he can hear a stifled burp, a glance in the mirror shows Genji cupping his palms over his mouth."...Please don't puke on my shit, ok?"

His answer is the throaty groan of someone who is, in fact, about to throw up. He steps on the gas.

They make it to his driveway before Genji loses the entirety of his stomach contents over his pile of stuff.

* * *

 

The phone rings for several seconds, and he's about to hang up and try again before he hears someone pick up on the other end.

“Som! _Finally!_ You awake?” He sticks to Spanish.

A quick glance at Genji shows him that he seems fast asleep on his couch, but he still doesn't want to risk the kid overhearing him. It'd been a hassle getting Genji into his apartment, he had been barely able to walk straight. Once he'd laid down on the couch he'd almost immediately passed out before he even touched the water Jesse tried to give him.  In his own (extensive) experience that meant the hangover was going to be vicious. Genji still had vomit on his pants, so he'd covered him with the rattiest blanket he owned in an effort to save his furniture.

"Well, let's see, you only called me half a dozen times."  Sombra's snaps. In her defense it was late and he's pretty sure she has class tomorrow.

“Oh sorry, if only _I_ had some _understanding_ of what it’s like to have your phone ring _nonstop_." He replies, sarcastic. " And anyway, I wouldn't have called if it wasn't important."

“What's up?”

“I found Genji. In my van. Super, super drunk, and maybe perhaps kinda possibly also high on something.”

“Shit, why you calling me then? Call his bro.” He can imagine her rolling her eyes at him.

He shoots another look over at his mostly uninvited houseguest. The biggest bowl he owned was now taking residence at the end of the couch, although he had a feeling that Genji had already thrown up everything he had to throw up.

“I never got his number, remember? But I have Genji's phone. Can you come over and unlock it?”

“Jesse. I would never, ever, _ever_ do something like that. That's _illegal_.”

“Please?” He’s not above begging. “What happened to being my best and only friend?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually _want_ me to help you with stuff.”

He plys her with her weakness. “I don’t know anyone else who can hack a phone, c’mon. Plus, I’ll cook you whatever you want, for the next week.”

Sombra answers with an exaggerated sigh, but he knows she’s pleased. She loves to show off. “I'll be there in fifteen.”

“You’re the best, thank you.”

He ends the call, checks on Genji again, who hasn’t moved. Sombra only lives a block over, in a condo complex with her family, and was probably going to just walk over by cutting through the back lots. Satisfied Genji is going to stay put, he heads back outside to salvage whatever he can from the van.

As he slides open the door, he winces. There was already quite a mess back here, and now with booze vomit on top of it all, it reeks. Clothing, blankets, sound equipment, empty takeout containers from the restaurant. An old jacket he writes off as a lost cause. Genji must have been using it as a pillow, and he tosses it towards the general vicinity of the dumpster.  He drags out several miscellaneous cords, the smaller of his amps, and is thankful that for once, he put in his battered guitar back into the gig bag where it belongs.

He turns his attention to the crumpled papers on the floor. Some of it is guitar tabs, others are his own music notes, and a good chunk are bills- back payments and late notices from when he first moved out of Gabe’s house, back when he’d been more or less living out of the van.

Stuff he'd been meaning to file away and organize at some point. And most of it now coated in someone else barf. He smushes it all into a trash bag, including the stack of takeout containers between the driver and passenger seat, which joins the jacket by the curb. He really should have cleaned his van out sooner, he'd had this apartment for almost a year now, so it's not as if he hasn't had the time.

One last check using his phone as a flashlight. Seems as if he's gotten the worst of it. There's still a bag of clothes and a pile of blankets in the very back, along with the big amp but he doesn't really feel like wrestling it into his house at the moment. And it's the first time in a few months he can remember seeing the actual floor.

The salvageable stuff is brought into his small kitchen. The small amp and cords he wipes down with a paper towel. He's more concerned about his guitar. It’s a relief that it was safe in the gig-bag, though the bag itself has splash damage in the corner. He takes the guitar out and leans it against the wall, and wonders if he can bring the bag to the laundromat.

Or maybe he can rinse it in the sink.

Sombra walks in through the back hall door as he’s up to his elbows in suds, fighting with the gig bag as he tries to fold to fit into the small basin. The stack of dirty plates tilts dangerously, another chore he’s put off for far too long.

She pauses, head cocked, eyebrows raised. Her backpack hangs on one shoulder, she must have brought her laptop.

“He puked on my shit.” He says by way of explanation.

"Oh." She's wearing fuzzy purple pj's, neon pink high tops on her feet, and her matching windbreaker. "Let's try and make this quick, I crawled out of bed for this."

“One second.” He grunts, trying again to force the gig bag under the faucet.

The water just seems to make it more slippery. It unfolds and catches the tower of plates. Sombra takes a step forward as if she's going to catch them, but it’s too late and they both watch as the tower tips over the counter. With a crash, almost every single plate he owns hits the ground, porcelain and glass shattering across stained vinyl. From the other side of the wall, they hear a groan.

"Having a good day?" Sombra asks as she steps over the mess to place her bag on his kitchen table.

He bites back a groan of frustration and surveys the ruin. _Fuck it._ It taken him weeks to smuggle that many cups and plates from the restaurant. Shaking the water off his hands he wipes them on the backside of his jeans and uses his feet to shove the mess closer to the cabinets.

“Apparently, my van is the prime spot to sleep off intoxication.” He’s not sure he even owns a dustpan. “And I ain’t going anywhere near their house again.” More cracking as his kicking just seems to make the mess bigger. “And Genji ain’t gonna call his brother. So, I will, but his phone’s locked.” He buries his face in his hands. “ Please help.”

“I’ll need his phone.”

"Here." He digs it out of his pocket and peeks around the corner again. Genji is still out cold, though he's shifted so his face is buried into cushions. "Feel a lil' bad about this, but I don't know what else to do. I kinda took his phone from him when I helped him inside."

She takes it from him, activates it. The screen is indeed locked. “You have his number, right? That’ll make this a hell of a lot easier.”

“Yeah, one second.”

She props open her laptop, pulls up some sort of application. Her own phone is plugged into computer via usb. She punches Genji's number into the app, and as watches, mutely fascinated as his phone rings once, then turns on. On her phone, a screen pops up, with what looks like a text message. From there, she scrolls, muttering under her breath. It's a few more seconds and he sees Genji's phone light up. The lock screen is gone.

“Boop.” She hands over Genji’s phone. “Done and done.”

He gives a low whistle, impressed. “That looked easier than I thought.”  

“Uh-huh. If you think so you can try it yourself next time, vaquero.” She idly scrolling through the list she has on his phone, humming softly under her breath. “Probably ninety percent of this is in Japanese. Wish I could read it, I bet he gets into some crazy shit.”

Looking at Genji’s smartphone, he taps at the icon for text messages. As she said, most of them are Japanese, and therefore he has no idea what they say. “Shit. I don’t suppose you know which one is his brothers?”

"Hrm." More scrolling. " Well, there's one number that he has about plenty of unanswered texts and missed calls from, and a second that has just missed calls. Same area code and starting digits so it's probably the same plan. Probably either his dad and his brother. Or maybe his mom if she's in the picture?"

"Yeah, I see, they're both the most recents. Think his brother is the one texting?"  

“Probably?” She replies, still focused on her own phone. “Let me see what it’s saved under. We’ll run the contact name through google translate.”

By copy-pasting the saved name into google, they are able to see that it translates to “Aniki.” Brother.

“Som, you're a genius.”

"I know it." She smirks. "Sure is a lot of work just to get one guy's digits, though."

“Ha ha, real funny. All’s I’m planning on is calling his brother to get him the hell outta my house and then I ain’t never gonna see them again.”

"Ok, whatever you say." She shuts down her laptop, stands. "I got class in the morning before work, but I'm going to hold you to the dinner thing. Tomorrow, I want bolognese. "

“You got it, and thank you again, Som. You’re the best.”

She flips her hair over her shoulder, her grin mischievous. “I love it when you flatter me.”

“You're going to delete whatever you took, right? I don’t want them to find out I stole a bunch of personal info…”

“Yup.” She pops the the word. “Totally. Already gone.”

“Sombra…”

She’s already halfway out the door, waving as she leaves. “Bye!”

“Text me when you get home!”

He waits for her text that she made it safely back to her apartment before he dials from Genji’s phone. It rings for barely half a second before it’s answered. To his immense relief, it’s Hanzo’s voice on the other end. He can tell by the snappish tone that comes through almost immediately. 

“Genji, where are you? You haven’t called for two nights, I’ll come get you I just need to know-”

“Hey.” Jesse cuts him off. “It’s me, the ‘cowboy cook.’ Genji’s with me. He’s okay, but he’s kinda toasted.”

There a rush of static from the other end. _“Put him on.”_

“‘Bout that, I can't cuz he’s currently passed out on my couch.”

“If you’ve hurt him, -” The words come as an angry growl, and Jesse finds himself raising his free hand as a placating gesture even though the other man can't see him.

“Whoa there, I ain’t done no such thing. I found him dozing in my van, and he’s kinda fucked up on something. “ He runs his hand through his hair. “‘Bout the only thing I got out of him is he don’t want to go home.”

Hanzo is silent a moment, and he can picture him considering his options. When he finally talks, he’s curt and to the point.

“Address.”

Jesse tells him. “You’ll have to park on the street, it’s a duplex. I’ll leave my light on for ya.”

Hanzo gets there in under twenty-five minutes, barely waiting for Jesse to open his paint chipped front door before he’s over the threshold, shoving past him to kneel next to Genji on the couch. As Jese watches, he sees Hanzo gently thumb open his younger brother’s eyes. Genji fails to react, too inebriated to even notice.  There’s an angry noise deep in his throat as he comes to the same conclusion that Jesse did.

Hanzo’s frustration is apparent in his words. “You have _no idea_ what he was using?”

“Not a clue partner, sorry. Drunk for sure, and prolly’ something that’s a downer. He was real out of it.”

Hanzo stands, hands clenched at his side.  “Forgive me if I don’t believe you. You first told me you had no idea where he was, only to just now call me _hours_ later after he’s basically od’d?”. Anger roughens his voice and stiffens the set of his shoulders. He focuses on Jesse with a hard set glare. “What are you after? Money? Blackmail?”

Jesse rears back, affronted. “ _Christ_ , no. I didn’t think I was ever going to see any of y’all again, why the hell would I want to _blackmail_ you?”

Hanzo approaches, and he backs a step up, though he refuses to look away. Even angry, his face is striking. Another step, and his legs bump the coffee table and he just barely catches himself before falling.

The shorter man leans in, close enough that he can feel his breath on his face. Jesse doesn't dare blink, though he can feel his muscles tense under his skin.

“Hrm.” It’s Hanzo who steps back first, a flicker of a frown crossing his lips. “You _seem_ sober. But why would my brother go to you?”

“Not a clue, buddy. I called you, he’s your problem now.”

Hanzo walks away from him, back to look at his brother again. Jesse managed to get Genji mostly on the couch, though his constant shifting brings him close to tumbling to the floor.. As they watch he twitches again, rubbing at his nose in his sleep. More concerning is the fact that he's sweating up a storm, whatever was in his system disagreeing with him.

“I’ll take him home.” Hanzo places his hand on Genji’s shoulder. “I apologize for his trespassing. And any damage he caused.”

Jesse shrugs. Not that he appreciated a stranger taking a nap in his van, or puking on his shit. But there was a time when he’d done something similar. And he didn’t have an older brother looking out for him.

Hanzo looks exhausted. Bags under his eyes, hair just a hint disheveled, and he can see just the start of silvering at his temples. Genji is still out cold, and he’d really be a pain to move at this point, let alone get him outside.

“I might need a hand getting him into my car .” Hanzo sighs, voicing Jesse’s own thoughts.

“If you’re sure. I mean-” Jesse’s not quite sure what moves him to speak. “Y’all can stay till he’s a lil’ more lucid. Sleep it off. I got work ‘round two pm so it’s no big deal if y'all crash. ”

Hanzo looks up, cautious. “Why- I mean I don’t want to impose. You’ve already gone out of the way to help us both by not leaking this mess to the public.”

“Leak to the public?” He repeats, confused. “Why would I…? I can’t say I understand what life for you two is like, but hell, I’m just trying to do the right thing here. I’m speaking the truth. I’ve been in a rough patch or two myself, so I can extend the courtesy.”

Hanzo checks his watch again, looking around the small apartment, shifting slightly back from foot to foot. It’s almost one in the morning.

"I suppose it would be easier to wait this out here, rather than try and sneak him back into my father's home." Hanzo rubs at his temple. "If you truly don't mind."

"Not at all. Let me see if I can find you another blanket or sleeping bag, and I can whip you up something to eat or drink if you want." He glances outside, Hanzo’s car is just barely visible parked on the curb.  "Might want to move your car, though, this neighborhood's not exactly the nicest. I can park on the street at the end o' my drive if you want my space."

“I didn’t even consider that.”

A half hour later, he hands Hanzo a mug of black coffee. “Sorry, it’s just Folgers. I’m sure you’re used to real nice stuff.”

"No, this is fine."  Hanzo takes the mug and leans back against the couch Genji is occupying. He's sitting with his knees tucked under him, one of Jesse's red woven blankets over his lap. "I suppose I should thank you. I think I may have misjudged you by a fair margin."

Jesse can feel a hint of a blush creeping into his cheeks, and he pulls a chair from the kitchen to sit on. Only to be polite, really. It’d be rude to just go to sleep when he had a guest.

"Oh, no hard feelings. I did sorta crash your dinner party for a few hundred bucks. But honestly, swear on my mama's grave that's not something I do every day." He ends his sentence with a self-deprecating laugh. "It was kinda a mess, sorry."

“It was memorable, I’ll give you that.” Hanzo acquiesces. He’s quiet for a few more moments, long enough that Jesse thinks the conversation has died, before Hanzo continues. “I have never seen my father that mad in front of public, _especially_ after you managed to scale the fence. He was going to call the police on you for trespassing. I had to talk him down from it, and Genji ended up distracting him. I had your car impounded on his request. Our father then sent everyone home, and I did not see him for the rest of the night.”

“Thanks, I didn’t have a way to get home without my van.” He shifts back into the chair. “Did Genji book it not long after?”

Hanzo nods, a small movement. “I believe so. I actually left to go back to my own home, and I expected my brother to show up there after a few hours. Genji still lives with our father, so it’s not unusual for him to stay with me, especially when he does stupid things like that. As of late, though, he’s been choosing to stay with other...acquaintances.”

Jesse catches the way Hanzo says that last word, distastefully and full of disapproval.

“So he ain’t new to couch surfin.’’”

“I suppose. When Genji never came to my house, I called around. None of his old friends knew his whereabouts. I was concerned because as of late, his crowd has tended towards less than savory past-times. You were a shot in the dark, as the last person I knew who had contact with him.”

“Gotcha. Since you didn’t know that hired me off o’ Craigslist.”

Hanzo gives a small chuckle at that, low and throaty.  "No, that I didn't. I knew he was lying, though I wasn't sure about what, exactly. You must have thought me terrible rude."

_Even his laugh is sexy._

"Well, maybe, but like I said, I think I was the one imposing' on your party. So I was rude first." He grins, then shakes his head. "Your dad is a scary moth- scary guy. That's why I didn't just drive your brother back to that house and dump him on the lawn."

Hanzo just nods. “My father can be rather terrifying. Though often his threats are empty, towards someone of your status, at least.”

“Really,” He tilts back in his chair, so the front legs are off the carpet. “‘Cuz he had me damn near pissing myself.”

“You have nothing for him to take.” Hanzo’s voice is flat, his mood souring. He decides to steer the conversation to safer waters.

“So,” He cocks his head. “A thing for cowboys?”

Hanzo’s cheeks turn pink. “I assure you, I do not. Genji was just embellishing things as usual.”

“Oh c’mon, a tidbit of info like that don’t just come out of nowhere.”

Hanzo turns his head away, frowning. He thinks he's pried to far, until Hanzo signs and looks back at his chair.

"When I turned twenty-one, we were out in France. Genji hired out an entire American themed bar and a veritable entourage of strippers. There were cowboys."

He starts to laugh at the mental image. Straight faced Hanzo, with a lap full of plaid and leather. “I take it you had a good time?”

“No, I wanted to curl up and die. I ended up drinking far too much, and he put it all on my credit card, since his own had been revoked.” Hanzo shakes his head, giving his sleeping brother a poke. “This asshole stole _my_ credit card to pay for _my_ birthday party, that I didn’t even want. I spent the next month thinking my father was going to have my head for frivolous spending.”

“It was the assless chaps, right?” Jesse teases, smirking at his guest.

Hanzo glares at him, he laughs again. “Alright, alright, sorry I got my hopes up.”

They lapse into silence,  and Jesse pulls himself out of that chair, intending to head to his room.

“You know, I was expecting to find you drunk as well when I came to pick up Genji. The last few times I’ve had to haul him out of someone’s apartment, that’s how it’s been. This has been a rather pleasant surprise.”

He feels a blush creeping into his cheeks at the unexpected compliment. “Truth to tell, I don’t drink no more. Not even a little.”

“Really? But at the dinner-”

“I stuck to water. Plus you two needed to loosen up more than me. I even put it the stupid ad that started this whole thing.” He stands, walking over to settle next to Hanzo’ seat on the floor, and pulls up the saved screenshot. “See? Right here: _‘Pretend to be drunk (sorry, don't drink, but I used to. Alot. too much in fact. I know the drill.)'"_

Hanzo’s fingers brush his own as he takes the phone, and he watches the other man’s lips move as he reads over the original posting. When Hanzo starts to grin, he finds himself delighted.

“I cannot believe he found you on Craigslist, but I am not surprised.” He hands the phone back, amusement coloring his words. “What in the world made you post this?”

"It was a joke that went too far. You should see how many people answered me. I still got almost eight hundred messages I haven't deleted yet. I made my friend take it down, otherwise, I'd probably have to get a new phone." He fights back a yawn as he talks. It's getting late, and he hadn't once considered sleep.

Hanzo settles back against his pillow, covering his echoing yawn with his hand. "Yawning is contagious," He gives a small pout, more subtle than his siblings, and Jesse can't help the fond bloom in his chest. "Like bad decisions and poor judgment."

Jesse laughs, despite the slightly mocking tone. "Yeah, I am really sorry about that. I probably never would have done it if I had been egged on."

"Honestly," Hanzo pulls his knees to his chest. "Don't apologize. Well, I wish my brother wasn't so-" he gestures to Genji, now drooling on the couch. "It was a better night than I could have hoped for. Usually, if Genji even shows up, it turns into an outright fight between him and my father within moments. And then I'm somehow expected to rein him in, like he's not a twenty-five-year-old adult." He rubs at his eyes, and Jesse has to stop himself from reaching over to touch his shoulder, instead he nods encouragingly.

"Well, glad I helped, I guess." Another yawn. "I should sleep, though, it’s really getting late.”

He sees Hanzo check his watch with a start. "I didn't notice. I tend to keep long hours anyway."

Jesse rises, knees protesting, and he can feel every inch of the yellowing bruise from Thursday night. “Well, we best be getting some shuteye while we can. Bathroom’s that door right over there if ya need anything, extra trash bags under the sink and ‘course feel free to wake me if something happens.” He eyeballs Genji for a quick second, before shaking his head. “I think it’s mostly out of his system. Shit ain’t good...if you need someone to talk to, well, “ he spreads his hands. “Like I said, I’ve been there. Took an outside perspective to get my shit straight, and it was one of the hardest things I ever did in my life. Sorry you’re dealing with it.”

Hanzo sighs,  eyes downcast, hair loose around his shoulders. "It's been ongoing for a few years now. My father has tried everything, from cutting him off to rehab centers. It’s half the reason he still lives with our father." Another frown and he cards his hands through his long hair. "I worry, but I don't want to enable him any more than I have."

“Hanzo-”

“It’s our problem. We will figure it out.”

A clear dismissal. Jesse turns, with a small wave, heading towards his bedroom at the end of the hall.  As he shuts the door, he takes one last glance at the brothers. Hanzo raises his chin, and he just catches the soft “Thank you.”

That night he dreams of a dark haired almost-stranger, with sharp comments and a throaty laugh. When he wakes he only remembers enough that he is far more turned on than he has any right to be.

He pulls his pillow over his head to muffle his groan as the realization hits.

_“Aww, shit.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have had a hell of a time getting this out. I started it right after getting my wisdom teeth taken out, and wrote probably 80% while tripping on percocet. I have since managed to get complications from said wisdom tooth removal, starting with a ' sinus communication', followed by a horrendous headcold, and now I have some sort of gross sinus infection or something where my face hurts among other things. Adding on to this is the time sink that is the holidays. Apologies for the delay, i really did mean to have this done like two weeks ago. 
> 
> But anyway, since holidays obligations are fulfilled, I'm pretty hopeful that I can do a roughly two-week update schedule from here on out. :) Thank you for reading!!!


	3. About How I Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was betaed months ago by the lovely Goodluckdetective and i am only now getting around to fixing it.
> 
> No major changes, just fixing my heavy reliance on italics and a few odd sentences :)
> 
> So I was trying to get this up before my birthday, and I guess I just barely made the deadline? Happy 26th to meeeeee
> 
> Anyway have a Hanzo chapter, poor guy is really good at lying to himself~~~

Hanzo wakes to his brother’s heel thumping into the back of his head. It startles him out of his fitful nap and he just barely catches himself from greeting the floor with his face, knocked off balance and disoriented. It takes him a second to remember exactly who’s house he is in and another to remember why he is here, rubbing the back of his skull as he surveys the clutter of an almost stranger’s living room. Sunlight streams through the lone window, painfully bright.

From behind him, he can hear Genji struggling to sit upright, paying no heed to the fact he had kicked his brother awake. Hanzo pulls himself to his feet and takes a step back, folding the blanket over his arm. Mr. McCree had mentioned his brother vomiting and if Genji throws ups again he doesn't want to be anywhere in range.

He had fallen asleep sitting upright on the floor with his back against the bottom of the couch and head tilted at a weird angle. Genji’s flailing plus the way he slept contributes to the sharp twinge in his neck and the start of a headache behind his eyes. His mood only sours further as he watches his brother grope blindly for the glass of water that their host had left. _What a mess._

“Fuuuckkk.” Genji groans, eyes pinched shut. His hand shakes as he holds the glass to his lips, muttering in their native tongue. “The hell am I this time?”

“Genji.” Hanzo crosses his arms, anger at his brother’s sheer lack of responsibility brewing deep in his chest. Genji was a Shimada, he was raised _better_ than this.  

Genji starts, bloodshot eyes darting around the room before he sees his brother. With an audible groan, he very nearly drops the glass in his hands. Water sloshes over the edge as he misjudges the distance between the bottom of the glass and the table, adding to the mess already present.

“Oh, good. You’re here.”  Genji says with sarcastic resignation. “How fucked am I? And _where_ am I?”

So at least he knows he’s in trouble.

“You don’t recall?”  

“If I did would I be asking you?” Genji retorts. “Fucking bright though. Ugh. What time is it?”

A glance at his own watch tells him, and he realizes he’s also going to be late for work on top of everything else. Another thing that is Genji’s fault.

“7:19 A.M. Monday morning.” The muscle in his jaw twitches and he tries to focus on that rather than immediately trying to box some sense into his brother. Waking their host by getting into a fight was something he’d rather avoid.

“It’s Monday? Damn. That hit hard.” Genji laughs, reaching for the glass again. His hair is pressed flat on one side, disheveled on the other. Red marks from the surface of the couch line his face, his thin hoodie is rumpled and carrying stains down the front. He runs his hand through hair and looks down, wrinkling his nose.

“I smell like shit.”

“Vomit, actually.” Hanzo informs him, tone icy.

“Must of been a fun night.”  Another slow look around. “This place is a dump.”

That statement sparks his ire worse than anything that Genji has done yet, including his absolute lack of remorse. McCree’s home was far from the cleanest he'd ever seen, true, but the man had gone out of his way to help them both when he clearly had no reason too.

 _Rude, ungrateful and unrepentant_.

Genji is still speaking. “Wait. Is this the Craigslist guy’s house? Jesse? Fuck, he should fire the cleaning service.”

“That is the absolute least of your concerns, right now.”  Hanzo’s hands grip the blanket, and he wishes it was his younger brother’s neck. He tosses it aside before he can rip it. “This...this not okay _._ ”  

“Do you see that?” Genji points and he turns his head to look. The only thing in that direction are two tacky movie posters; old westerns, pinned to the walls and curling at the corners. He returns to glaring at his brother, his pulse pounding is his temple.

Genji sneers, opening his hand as if tossing something. “Annnnd there it goes. The last fuck I had.”

 _“Genji!”_ He snaps, his hands balling into fists at his sides. _“_ You cannot-

Genji cuts him off, wholly unaffected by the rage directed toward him. “Why are you even here, Hanzo? Did you just show up to yell at me?”

He forces himself to take a deep breath through his nose before he speaks. “No, you absolute asshole. I’ve spent the last two night looking for you!”

“Oh.” Genji flips his hood up and sinks back into the couch, placing his feet on Mr.McCree’s coffee table with an audible thunk. “Well, you found me. Congratulations.”

 _“Congratulations?!”_  He squawks, mouth agape.

“Did you want me to thank you? I'm sorry , let me put on my best groveling voice.” Genji pitches his tone high and mocking, bowing deeply as he can while seated. “Oh, _Lord Hanzo_ , thank you for taking pity on me, your wayward brother! I shalt always be in your debt!”

Hanzo draws himself to his full height, itching to haul Genji to his feet as well. He definetly too loud, but he’s so angry he doesn't care. “I want you to take some _fucking responsibility_ for yourself!  Do you think I enjoy bailing you out of trouble constantly?”

“You enjoy having people lick your boots.” Genji yells right back. “Besides, I never fucking asked you to come get me so fuck off with your ‘holier than thou’ bullshit!”

They hear the bedroom door creaks open and Hanzo snaps his mouth shut, his reply dead on his lips. So much for leaving quietly. Hair tussled and shirt mussed, their host slips out to the hallway between the living room and bedroom, standing awkwardly in his own home.

“Morning.” That voice, smooth and easy and so at odds with the man's appearance. “Don't know what y'all shouting about but I do know an argument sounds like.”

“Apologies for waking you.” Hanzo glares at Genji, switching back to English. “We were just leaving.”

“Yeah. My bad.” Genji adds, a touch too late.

“Might of been up already, don’t worry about it.” A  prickly silence engulfs them all, McCree hesitating with his hand on his bedroom door.

“Yo Craigslist, did we fuck?” Of course Genji has to trample over every last shred of decency that they might possess. “I feel like we might of fucked.”

“Nope. ‘Less you mean you fucking up my stuff.” McCree gives an easy laugh as he replies, like Genji’s breaking into his van and crashing uninvited in his home doesn’t bother him. If their positions were reversed, Hanzo would have thrown the intruder out into the road as soon as he found them, acquaintance or no.

“Damn, and here I thought you had a thing for Asians.”

 _“Genji!”_ Hanzo’s jaw drops and he rounds on his younger brother. “What is wrong with you?”

Genji shrugs, picking at the fabric of his hoodie again. “Lotta things. I can give you a list. Starting with you.”

With a wordless growl, Hanzo spins and starts to close the distance between them. Genji sits up, hand slipping on the arm of the couch as he tries to brace himself.

“Whoa now, easy-”

He doesn’t even see McCree move till he’s standing in front of him, hands almost touching Hanzo’s chest as if he intends to physically hold him back.

“You two had a rough night and I'm sure you're still not feeling too hot, kid.” McCree speaks to Genji, but his eyes are still on Hanzo.

When he sees he has Hanzo’s attention, he gives a slight shake of his head, and that’s enough to break the tension. Hanzo settles back on his heels, shooting his brother a glare over McCree’s shoulders.

McCree’s tight posture eases as he turns fully to address the younger Shimada, keeping his voice light. “Why don't you go shower off, Genji. I can lend you something to wear, and I'll whip us up a quick breakfast. Then you two can get on outta here.”

Genji slides down so he’s almost laying down on the couch, hood still over his head and hands in the front pocket. “We’d love too, but this is where Hanzo comes up with some pressing obligation, I go home, Oto-san threatens me till he's blue in the face and then we all pretend like nothing ever fucking happened.”

He can see McCree’s shoulders raise as the man takes a deep breath. “Only gonna ask you once. You alright, kid?”

For the first time since he awoke, Genji looks up and Hanzo can see his face fully. He can't quite place his expression; a mix of vulnerable and angry, fearful and bitter. The day he told Genji that he fully intended on heading the Shimada business empire like their Father expected, Genji had looked the same way. They'd argued, and Genji hasn't spoken to him for days afterward.

He lets himself hope that Genji will, for once, give some clue as to why he insists on acting so foolishly.

“I'm fucking great. I love waking up on some flea infested couch covered by in puke while a stranger pretends to care more about me than my own family. Best time of my life.”

“Genji.” Hanzo grounds out. It's taking him every ounce of self-control he possesses not to grab him and shake him by the shoulders. “Go take a shower. We might as well stay for breakfast, I’m already late for work, an extra half-hour will not matter.”

“Oh okay. Sure you don't want more barf in your ugly car? That’s the only reason you want me to get clean, right?”

He opens his mouth to retort but McCree is already there to defuse.

“I can do bacon, French toast, pancakes, anything with eggs. Any of that sound good to you?”

“I don't care.” Genji sneers, back to being a petulant child.

“Right, green eggs and ham coming up to match the hair.” McCree smirks. “Now go shower, you reek. Hanzo, take a seat anywhere, I'll be back in a sec.”

His brother makes a face, and McCree shoos him down the hall, both disappearing from his line of sight.  Hanzo takes the opportunity to look around the apartment and tries to not begrudge the sheer amount of mess that invades the man’s home. His headache is going full force now, a combination of frustration and embarrassment.

McCree’s apartment is small and while he doesn't possess much in the way of furniture, it's far too cluttered for his tastes.  The lone couch is old and clearly second hand, a long rip maring one side and all the cushions have large divots in the middle. The coffee table appears as if came from the side of the road, one of the legs doesn't match. Mail is stacked haphazardly on top, most still unopened in their envelopes. A few plates, still dirty, are pushed to the far side, away from the couch. Three different cups with varying contents of indeterminable age have been left out, not including the one Genji was drinking earlier. At least the floor seems relatively clean.

Unfortunate that the man was a slob. He could almost think of him as a friend despite the disparity between them, and he would be forever grateful for McCree’s help last night, but appearances mattered in his social circles. It was unlikely they would see him again after he and Genji left. He would have to find a way to thank him. 

As he contemplates what an appropriate gesture would be, he heads to the kitchen. He notes the trash bin is filled with broken plates and glasses, and he wonders if that’s Genji’s fault as well. A small metal card table is the only place to sit, but it’s far less cluttered than the coffee table.

He takes a moment to send a quick text to his secretary, telling them he feels a bit ill this morning but he should be in before lunch. He’ll just drop Genji off at his Father’s and shower there; he keeps a change of clothes in his car for situations such as this. It’s not the first time he had to hunt Genji down, nor will it be the last. His own house is located in Irvine, almost an hour and a half north and he definitely does not have time to make that drive this morning.

After a few minutes, McCree returns and begins to pull ingredients from around his kitchen- eggs and milk, flour, a little box of baking something or another.

“Pancakes?” Hanzo questions. He doesn’t often cook for himself, but as a child he and Genji used to sit in the kitchen of his Father’s home while the chef worked, watching.

“Mhm.” McCree nods, laying everything out on the counter before digging through a low cupboard for a pan. “I haven't gone food shopping in a while and pancakes are easy. If y’all come by again I'll make sure I got something on hand to impress you.”

“I’m pleasantly surprised you don't use a box mix.”

“Don't insult me, Hanzo.” McCree shoots him a look over his shoulder, mock offense painting his features. “I'm a cook, dammit. If I can't make some goddamn pancakes from scratch, I might as well quit.”

It seems as if it's only moments before he's pouring the mixture into a sizzling pan, whistling tunelessly while he works. Hanzo is content to sit in almost silence, preferring to observe.

He eyes the guitar resting on the wall, an older acoustic type, lacquered dark on the edges and reddish orange in the middle. There's an amp next to it, and as he stares he realizes that the guitar has an input on the side.

“‘Used to love playing that thing.” McCree must have noticed him looking. “Not too much anymore, don’t got the energy. Before I had this place, I'd go busk on days I weren't at the restaurant, and honestly most nights. If I was still living outta the van I'd probably be still doing it.”

Hanzo had always considered buskers an annoyance. Downtown was filled with them, and usually, they were homeless. His Father would often remark that the city needed to do something about it, to clean up downtown for people who were 'worth catering too.'

McCree breaks his train of thought with a change of subject. “Mind if I offer a bit of advice?”

“Yes. But I think you'll do it anyway.” He's only half joking.

McCree is tall enough that he has to half crouch to see under the hood of his stove, and he keeps his eyes on the pancakes. “Try and not just jump straight to yelling at him.”

Hanzo bites back another sigh, he was hoping that this wasn't going to be brought up.

“I wasn't yelling. Furthermore, I don't know what else to do at this point, he has to be dragged kicking and screaming into behaving like an adult.”

“Scolding, then. Whatever you want to call it.”  McCree waves his spatula in the air as he talks. “I get that you’re at your wit’s end, but it's - what he’s doing- it’s a cry for help. I don't know what your dad and your family is like but it's pretty obvious that they don't get along, and your brother is not in a good place right now.”

“How astute of you.” Hanzo makes his voice flat.

McCree shrugs, pulling the pan away from the stove to flip the pancake, the bottom a perfect golden brown. He lets it sit for a few more seconds, then with the ease born of long practice slips the pancake to a platter, starting the second one. Hanzo hopes he's gotten the hint he doesn't wish to discuss his brother’s issues.

“There's gonna be a time that he's going to absolutely need you to draw a hard line and kick his ass six ways to Sunday.”

Or not. The man seems determined to offer his input.

“But it can't be on every little thing he does.” McCree continues, voice earnest. “He’s definitely lashing out, but it's ‘cuz he’s lonely and don't got no one to go to. He ain’t an addict or nothing, he’s just having a hard time. I can tell you care but he can't. He thinks you hate him.”

That makes him frown. “I don’t hate him.”

“Yeah, clearly cuz you’re here and you care enough to be rightly pissed ‘bout what he’s doing. But he’s hurting.”

“And how do you know?” Hanzo retorts.  “How can _you_ possibly be sure that it's more than some childish form of rebellion? ”

“I told you already.”  McCree adds the second pancake to the plate. “That was me 'bout ten years ago. Maybe a mite worse if you can believe it. Trust me when I say nobody wants to live like that.”

Hanzo snorts. He’d personally looked into McCree's colorful police record and 'mite worse’ was an understatement. Arson, car theft, burglary and larceny, multiple charges of assault _including_ on an officer, and almost all were earned before he had turned 18. On second thought, he had never considered someone with a record like that became so mellow .

Hanzo’s next question is honest curiosity.“What happened?”

Jesse chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. “Someone took the time to give a shit.”

* * *

 

When the brothers finally get into Hanzo’s car, the silence is deafening.

He had spoken with Jesse the entire time the man cooked breakfast, for once grateful for Genji’s notoriously long showers. It felt good to have someone listen and sympathize, and Jesse's perspective on why Genji was acting out was a welcome insight, even if he felt that Jesse urged for too much leniency.  Although he should expect that someone with that sort of upbringing could not fully grasp the implications of Genji’s misbehavior- as a Shimada, anything and everything they did reflected on their Father and his companies, and he doubted Jesse had anywhere near that level of expectation on his shoulders.

Nonetheless, Hanzo muses, he has nothing to lose by trying to approach Genji the way McCree suggested, and perhaps, maybe he could mend the tattered relationship between him and his brother. They had been close, once before.

Genji has curled away from him, legs up on the seat and the borrowed sweatshirt’s hood pulled up. It's a few sizes too big, effectively hiding his entire face. His phone is on but he's starting listlessly at the screen.

Hanzo lets out a long sigh, resisting the urge to rub at his face again. Breakfast helped dim his headache a little, and he had been turning Jesse’s words over in his mind since the man spoke them.

 _Start small_ , was first thing Jesse had advised. _Get him to eat real food if he hasn't. Have him shower if he needs to, be pushy if you gotta but stay calm and keep trying._

Genji certainly has several issues to address, but he'll start with easiest one he can think of.

“Where is your car?”

Genji ignores him, still staring away at the screen. He takes another breath and reminds himself that he is happy the Genji is in one piece, and how scared he was at the thought of him ending up hurt or dead.

“Genji.”

“The club. It'll be fine, they won't touch it.” The reply in muttered  but at least it's an answer.

“We will grab it after work. I'm going to the office when we get back, after I drop you off-”

“What are you doing?” Genji cuts him off, words as a snarl. “Just fucking get it over with.”

Hanzo grinds his teeth. _Stay calm._ “I don't care to fight with you.”

“Oh? Since when?” Genji forces a laugh. “Usually you love screaming at idiots.”

 _Patience._ Hanzo sits in silence instead of taking Genji’s bait. The noise of the blinker seems disproportionately loud inside the insulated cab. They’re nearing the highway,the  I-5, and he knows it’ll be congested this time of the morning. Traffic is something that is safe to get mad at.

The bumper of the SUV in front of him is a perfect target for his anger, and he scowls. They have a vanity license plate and seem incapable of understanding that just because you have a horn doesn’t mean that you should use it. Everyone is stuck. Honking is only making it worse. Jackasses.  Fucking San Diego.

“Did you talk to dad?” Genji asks so quietly he almost misses it underneath the sound of car horns outside.

He rearranges his expression to something more neutral. “Not yet.”

“I want to know how badly he’s going to kill me.”

“He believes you were at my house for the weekend.” Hanzo’s finger tap at the steering wheel, belying his agitation. “I’m not going to tell him what I saw, Genji. It’s more stress that he doesn’t need, and you know what he said after Thanksgiving. I rather not have to do any more of his dirty work because you decided that your personal entertainments were without risk.”

“That’s not it-” Genji bristles, finally sitting upright.

“Then _explain_ it to me.” He snarls, harsher than he intended. “ Why do you insist on throwing away every opportunity that comes your way?”

Genji shifts away again, arms crossed over his chest and head to the window. The car creeps forward another foot. For some reason, the idiot in front of them lays on the horn again, and Hanzo briefly considers rear-ending them.

They make it maybe another half-mile down the highway before Genji answers him. “I'm not you. I can't sit in an office and have my entire fucking life dictated to me. I can't be a soulless drone who only lives to make the company more money. _I can't.”_

He lets go of the steering wheel to drag his hand over his face.“So the alternative is to fuck over me? Or our Father? Yourself?”

“I’m going to end up dead either way, so at the very least I'm going to pick my fucking poison.” His brother sits up, speaking with plain conviction. “I know you won't miss me.”

 _“Stop telling me what I think!”_ Hanzo snaps. Takes a deep breath. So calm wasn't possible, but he could stop yelling. “I don’t ...Why can't you just try to listen? The family - I- only want what's best for you.”

“That's bullshit and you know it.”

“Genji-”

“Don't 'Genji _’_ me.” His brother’s voice is strangled, his words clipped and rushed. “Was it _'_ what _was_ best for me _’_ when Dad told me I would never amount to anything because I said I liked watching cartoons instead of reading? I was seven . Or what about when he told me he would fucking disown me because I didn't want to go the prep school he chose? Or how about how he broke my fucking _nose_ because I went to that stupid dance with a guy?  I can have as many girlfriends as I want, that's _ok_ , but if it’s a guy I’m suddenly a disgusting piece of shit. Do you remember that, Hanzo? Because I do.”

He does remember. Genji had been called to his Father’s home office, he had heard them yelling, and he had waited outside the door. He had heard the sound of fist meeting flesh and the thump as Genji, then sixteen, had hit the ground. He had heard their Father dismiss him from the room, and he had heard Genji struggle to his feet, open the door, and how Genji had left the room with blood dripping down his chin.

He hadn’t said a word to comfort him, only shook his head. Genji had turned to spit at their Father’s door, a glob of bloody saliva that had marred the white paper. Hanzo had cleaned it off with his sleeve best he could, hoping that their Father hadn’t seen that.

Genji is ranting now, breathless and close to tears. “‘ _It’s for the best_ !’ Everyone always fucking says that. You're so fucking blind, Hanzo. It _used_ to be us against them, and you always had my back, you _always_ protected me. I thought that no matter what, my brother would be there. And then you decided that you're okay with every single thing you do being decided by Dad and the family and hell, even the fucking board gets a say because we're related to almost everyone who has a seat, and that's fine _._ Do you _even try_ and think for yourself anymore, or should I pretend that you're not going to tell Dad everything I just said?”

Genji's words seem to hang in the air. Hanzo had not understood before just how badly his brother was hurting. He still doesn’t grasp it all, not entirely, but one thing is clear- his brother needs him. Even so, he struggles to find words. How can he begin to cross that gulf between them?

Genji is the one who breaks the silence first. “I'm sorry.”

Hanzo focuses his gaze on the steering wheel. There is no easy answer here, no simple choice to make.

“I'm sorry I'm such a fuckup.” Genji’s head is down, and he speaks to the floor. “And I'm sorry that I can't do anything right. I don't know what happened. I'm sorry you hate me.”

“Genji, no, no. I could never hate you. You're my little brother.” His own voice breaks as he speaks. “I can't watch you do this to yourself. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

His brother doesn’t respond to that, but he can hear how his breath is ragged as if he’s trying to hold back tears.  

 _Keep trying._ Hanzo keeps speaking, desperate to explain. “We used to be so close. I miss that. I always figured you could be happy, as long as I kept working hard enough for the both of us. I know Father is tough to understand. I believe he wants us both to succeed, though his methods are harsh. I thought I was protecting you, though I see now I may have only made everything worse. Maybe this all could have stopped sooner.”

Genji shakes his head. “Father isn’t infallible, Hanzo.”

“He is trying to protect us. You need to try too. I can help you.”

If Genji can be persuaded to stop his outlandish behavior and put in a solid work effort at the company, or even get some sort of job that their Father approves of, then the family would no longer be so harsh on him. He would only need to try, and maybe he could be happy.

“You missed the exit for Dad’s house.”

This could be fixed. Genji was more than capable, he was brilliant with numbers, though he never seemed to apply himself. They were brothers, above all else. 

“Yes. I am taking the day off.”

“What?" His surprise is evident. "Hanzo no, Dad will know!”

Hanzo shakes his head dismissively. “No, he won’t. He trusts me.” He's tired of the office anyway, and if he could help Genji, even by doing something as small as trying to rebuild their bond, his Father could not possibly begrudge him.

“You sure?” Genji questions, tone skeptical.

“Yes. I'll hook up the Wii-u so you can kick my ass in Brawl. That always made you feel better. We can order takeout for dinner.”

“Alright, if you say so.” Genji still sounds doubtful, but he can see him start to smile. “It’s better than going back to Dad’s house, at the very least.”

The drive home suddenly seems far more bearable, and the further away from their Father’s house they get, the more Genji relaxes. The more he relaxes, the more he talks. About everything, and yet nothing. His car, his friends, new music, movies, and shows. Hanzo listens, and it hits him how far apart they’ve drifted.

When the conversation finally lulls, it's far more of a comfortable silence. Traffic has opened up once they got outside of the city, enough so that the drive to Irvine can be considered relaxing. 

Genji breaks the silence again, this time with an overly dramatic groan and burying his face in his hands.  Hanzo gives him a questioning glance.

“I was an ass this morning, wasn’t I?”

He smirks.“You were, but I'll take that as an apology.”

“You don’t count!” Genji shoves at his shoulder. “You deserve my assholish-ness. I meant to Jesse. I totally...Ugh, that was bad. I mean I was hungover as all fuck, but still.”

“It was pretty rude.” _Very rude, and embarrassing._  “To his credit Jesse seemed to take it all in stride.”  

“I'm going to send him more cash or something as an apology. He’s poor so it’s not tacky, right?” Genji reaches for the car’s touchscreen, tapping away for different radio stations. “Also, completely coincidentally, can I borrow a couple hundred bucks?”

“No.”

“But _Hannnzzooooo_ , I feel terrible about it.” Genji settles on something electronic and annoying, but Hanzo decides he can tolerate his music choice for now. “We really should make it up to him.”

“You should start by apologizing.”

“Yeah, but that’s kinda… “ Genji wrinkles his nose, frowning. “I mean he really kinda babysat me, and didn’t try and rob me or anything.”

“You also threw up in his van.”

“Ack- don't tell me-”

Hanzo looks over at his brother, eyebrows raised. “So you do have a sense of shame!”

“Nope.” His brother puts his hands behind his head. “ I'm just grossed out by puke.”

“That is the same thing.”

“I still should do something besides just apologize to him. He was so chill about it and I'm a mess.” Genji hums for a moment. “Seriously, is cash lame?”

“I’m not sure, but it feels low-class in a way.” He chews at his lip for a moment. “I might have an idea.”

“Yeah?” Genji has his feet up on the dash now, but he lets it go.   

“You mentioned before about going to a show…”

 

* * *

 

For what has to be the fifth time in as many minutes, Hanzo goes to put his hand on the door that is Overwatch's entrance. And once again, he can't gather the courage push inside.

He's just doing this as a thank you. Jesse might not even _want_ to go. Or maybe he won't be able to get the time off and be insulted? How much of a notice for requested days was a line cook expected to give? But even so the thought was more important than the execution, was it not?

He paces on the sidewalk, past the windows, stopping each time he hits the end of the pavement to turn and walk by again. He’s already been in there once, so he shouldn't be so nervous, but last time concern for his brother was the driving factor. This is merely a social visit. Of sorts.

Absorbed in his own thoughts, he nearly runs right into a petite waitress, holding to door open and waving a hand in front of him.

“Oi, are ya going to come in or are you just going to keep pacing?”  

“Uh-” He flounders, then turns to walk away. “I-I was just leaving.”

“Right, sure you were.” She grabs his arm and pulls him inside. “You’ve been out here for eons, you’re making us dizzy.”

He lets her direct him, swallowing nervously. At least he’s inside now.

“Take a seat at the bar, Ames will be right with you. Do you want me to go get Jesse?” She rocks back on her heels, head cocked to the side. Her hair is short, teased up in perky spikes.

“Yes. Please. No rush if it’s busy, though.”

She waves her hand around the restaurant. It’s Tuesday, early afternoon, and the place has only one other table. “Do you see this? He’ll be out in a sec.”

The bar is a shaped like a narrow horseshoe. A counter in the middle holds a surprisingly large liquor selection, and underneath that is small fridges that probably houses white wines. Two large television screens are mounted on one side, he chooses to sit on the opposite, no interest in the sports that they are currently tuned to. The countertop is a dark granite, something he failed to notice last time, his mind at the time preoccupied with trying to locate his brother. Surprisingly classy considering the neighborhood. He takes his phone out and checks the time. Technically, with his position in the company, no one will complain if he takes a long lunch, though he feels he wasted far too much time pacing around outside.

A bar menu and wine list are slapped down in front of him, obscuring his phone. He notes the red, professionally manicured nails before the owner withdraws her hand.

“Would you care for a drink, sir?” She’s French, judging by the pronounced accent.

He eyes the shelf, considering.“Scotch and soda, Lagavulin 16 if you have it.”

She gives a slight nod as she turns away, though her expression doesn’t change. He idly thumbs through the menu as he waits for his drink. The bar menu is typical for a place like this, burgers and wraps, finger foods and some pizzas.  She comes back quickly, seting the glass in front of him.

“Do you require anything else?”

“No, thank you.” He says. Jesse certainly was taking his time. He glances to his phone again, wondering if he should eat lunch here, unhealthy as the options seemed.

“So.” The bartender again, still standing on her side of the counter.He looks up and sees her arms folded in front of her chest. “You’ve taken an interest to our….how did you call him... cowboy cook?”

He keeps his own features neutral. “He’s been helpful to me over the last few days. I wish to express my gratitude.”

“He is an idiot, but he is also a good friend.” She narrows her eyes. “I know what your type is like, Shimada. You are pretty, _oui_ , but the pretty ones are often both vain and stupid. I hope you are more civil than your brother. Jesse is well-liked here .” 

He recognizes a threat when he hears one, though for what he’s not sure. She makes it sound like he’s planning on bewitching the man, and he opens his mouth to assure her that he has no such intent.

The doors swing outward, and he’s distracted from replying by the sight of the ‘cowboy cook.’

This time he’s remembered to take off the face netting, his hair gathered into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. The kitchen must be warm, as both times Hanzo has come calling Jesse has exited the kitchen covered with a sheen of sweat, gathered in the hollow of his neck and across his brow. He’s wearing a white undershirt, far too small in Hanzo’s opinion, it’s tight to his body and across his chest and shoulders. What Hanzo finds the most fascinating in his hands, calloused and worn, and a smattering of faded scars on both his surprisingly muscular arms. Most appear to be small burns, likely due to his occupation. The edge of a poorly done tattoo is just visible before disappearing under the sleeve of his shirt, black, crude lettering and what he thinks is the bottom of a skull.

Hanzo swallows, nervous again. If it wasn’t for his previous interactions with him, he would assume that he was short tempered and ill educated. His size alone was intimidating, when factoring in his ragged appearance at first glance he looked like someone who could be hired to beat someone to death in an alley. Thinking on his record again, he wonders if maybe, he’s tried.

When their eyes meet, Jesse’s face break into a broad grin and his whole presence is changed. Hanzo smiles back and he has to bite back a laugh as Jesse nearly stumbles over the step down from the kitchen.

“Hello, again.”

“Howdy!” Jesse has to be the most enthusiastic person Hanzo’s ever met. Every time he says hello, with his easy grin and sincere greetings, he's reminded of a cheerful puppy. “Fancy meeting you here, partner.”

“I don't believe fancy is an apt descriptor for this restaurant.” He replies, hoping it comes across as witty. Jesse's expression falter for a split second.

“That ain't what it means, Hanzo-”

Of course, his attempt at a joke would fall flat, just as before. He'd hadn't realized he had been offending the cook last time until the man was in his face about it, and by then it had been far too late to backtrack.

“Ohh,” Or maybe Jesse would pick up on it after all. “You're joshing me! In that case, what brings you here today? Genji missing already? I'll check my van.”

“Well..” His drink becomes the most fascinating thing he's seen, and he runs his finger along the rim, watching as the tiny bubbles make their way around the ice to the surface. “I thought it would be proper for me to thank you.”

“Oh. You're welcome” Jesse grins again and doffs an imaginary hat. “Always happy to help a friend!.”

He shakes his head, frustrated. This shouldn't be so hard. He tries again. “I wanted to thank you properly.”

Jesse shifts, eyebrows knitting together, confused. “You did?”

“I mean I want to _actually_ thank you.”

“Ok?”

“I want to _do_ something for you.” He tries to explain, toying with the edge of the menu.

“Uhh...” For some reason, Jesse blushes and seems at a loss for words.

Hanzo takes a deep breath and lets the words out in a rush before he can second guess himself again. “As a thank you. I was wondering - do you even have time off? I have tickets ... I'm not sure what music you prefer but Genji said he'd be an idiot to not want to go- I have tickets to a Foo Fighters concert and I thought you might want to see it? Genji is bringing a whole entourage but it's the least I-we could do, if you want. To go, that is. With me?”

“Really?”

He nods.

“Aw shit, I'd love to!’ Jesse’s enthusiam is contagious. Hanzo feels a palpable sense of relief that he accepted so easily. “Damn, though, I can’t believe this, I was going to ask you, but this is even better! And I’ve been wanting to see them in concert for _ages_. You gonna make me cry, Hanzo.”

He smiles. “You deserve it, and to be honest it was at Genji’s instance. An apology and a Thank you, all in one.”

“I still- wow. Just wow. Man, I’m so excited. I could hug you right now.”

He almost lets him. “I am glad you said yes. I was worried you wouldn’t want to go.”

“I couldn’t say no to you, Hanzo. But damn, do you have any idea how expensive-nevermind.” Jesse stops, shakes his head. “Hey, lemme check in with my boss and maybe if you want I'll take a lunch with you?”

“Sounds fine to me. I was planning on eating here before I head back to the office. I suppose I should have just texted you, but it seemed wrong to ask over text.”

“Nah this is way better. I wouldn’t have believed you otherwise. What were you planning on getting? I’ll even cook it if you want to wait.”

“Uh…” He looks at the bar menu, none of it seems particularly appealing to him. “I’m not too picky, although I’m not fond of dairy. And something light, preferably. And no mayonnaise. So surprise me, I guess.”

“That’s pretty damn picky, Hanzo, but you got it.” Jesse purses his lips. “Gimme like fifteen minutes, and I’ll be right out.”

When he returns, he carries two plates. The burger and fries must be for himself, and the one he sets down for him contains a bowl of some sort of soup and a chicken salad.

“I feel special, being served by the chef.” He remarks. “What is this?”

“Zuppa Toscana, though it’s thinner than it should be cuz this one ain’t got no cream. Sausage, bacon, onion, some garlic, and potatoes. And that’s a salad.Got ‘rugula, chicken, bunch o’ herbs, olive oil and vinegar. I suggest adding fresh cracked black pepper, but you do you.”

He tries the salad first, and he hums his appreciation. “This is pretty good.”

“Thanks, I tried.”  Jesse preens under the praise. “Never thought you’d ask me out on a date first. Made my day, really.”

Hanzo chokes, face burning as he turns a bright red. He tries to cover it with a cough but he just ends up sputtering like an idiot, while Jesse stares at him. “It’s not- I mean I…”

“You okay?”Jesse’s burger hovers in the air, sauce dripping from under the bun. “It’s probably a  little too early for mouth to mouth.”

He grabs for his drink and chugs to swallow the mouthful of salad, only to late remembering it’s alcoholic. The burn in his throat brings tears to his eyes and he nearly spits the drink on the countertop. He coughs for a few more moments before he’s finally able to clear his throat.

“Apologies, friend. I think you may have misread my intentions. This wasn’t supposed to be a date.”

It’s as if he told the man he killed his dog. Jesse’s shoulders sag and his face drops, and when he speaks it’s with clear disappointment.

“Oh. Oops.  I thought you were just being coy.” He puts his burger on the plate. “Did I just make this super fucking awkward then?”

At the end of the bar, the bartender begins cutting lemons with far more force than necessary.

Hanzo hadn’t imagined that he’d feel quite so bad for rejecting someone before. He’d been nearly engaged at one point, and telling that woman to get out of his life had been the most satisfying thing he’d ever done. But right now, he feels like scum.

“Mr.McCree- Jesse. Do not worry about it. I would still enjoy your company, as a friend. Please accept my offer of the tickets. I’m sorry that I appeared as if I was coming on to you.”

Jesse looks up, head tilted. Hanzo silently begs him to accept.  

To his relief, the man breaks into another grin.  “Me and my stupid mouth. I’d be an idiot to pass up a chance like this, long as you don’t mind me going.”  He sticks his hand out, and Hanzo shakes it. “Friends?”

“Yes. Friends.”

* * *

 

He gets back to the office and feels lighter than he has in ages. Genji had left his house with a promise to stay in contact and to forgo the club scene for the next week, traffic had been surprisingly light, no one was breathing down his neck about accounts and what the stock market was doing and the fines they were going to pay for leveraging insider information or the million of other things that came with working for the inner circle for his Father's vast business empire. He didn't even have to deal with the board till later this week, a small blessing in itself, since they seemed to be harping on what investors were expecting out of the most recent round of acquisitions.

He gives his assistant a friendly smile and the woman actually blinks in confusion.

“Are you feeling alright, Mr. Shimada?”

“Of course, Satya.” He pauses by her desk. “Why wouldn't I be?”

She taps her pen, the only sign belaying her agitation. “You do not normally do that with your face. I thought you might still be ill.”

“I am in a good mood today.” He tells her. There is nothing that can ruin it at the moment, even if the office burnt down. In fact, he muses, that would just make him happier.

“Right.” Satya is still looking at him like he's decided to sprout horns. With a small shrug, he turns away to continue to his office. He still has work to do, but maybe he can get out of building before 7 PM. He should call and check up on Genji as well, and see how being home was treating him.

“Mr. Shimada!” He halts as his assistant hails him once more. “Your Father is here, waiting for you in your office. I'll let him know you're on the way up.”

Dread settles like a weight around his neck. A personal visit from his Father during business hours was _never_ good news. He pinches the bridge of his nose, willing himself to retain the quickly fading cheerfulness. There’s a pounding ache already starting behind his eyes, dealing with his Father on the best of days was stressful, and he can only think of one reason why he would be here right now.

It’s no use. As if someone shuttered a lantern, his good mood is gone, quashed under impending anxiety and dismay.

Satya is nodding at him. “That is your more typical expression. You must be feeling better already.”

With anxious footfalls and a sense of dread he goes. It will do no good to delay, and he lets himself harbor a slim hope that maybe this has to do with business rather than family.

“Good Afternoon, Father.” He keeps his tone neutral. There might be a chance to salvage everything, it depends on what he actually knows. Better play his cards close to his chest.

“Hanzo.” The elder Shimada is seated behind his desk, in his chair. Hanzo opts to stand.

His father continues, his voice low.“Your discretion when dealing brother is to be commended. If the media ever got word of what he does, it could potentially ruin me and this company.”

Hanzo forces a laugh, trying to affect a casual air. “Aren’t you being a tad dramatic?"

His father slams his hand down on the desk, and Hanzo flinches despite himself. “He could _ruin_ me. You and I both know this. Therefore, I assume that the lack of forthcoming details of Genji's whereabout over the last few days are simply due to the fact you were planning on telling me _now._ ”

Panic makes him stutter. His father knows. He has to know. He _always_ knows. “I...uh...”

“Do _not_ lie to me, Hanzo. Your brother already stresses me greatly. I cannot bear two disrespectful sons.”

“Genji was with me-”

His father shakes his head, tenting his fingers in front of his face. “You give me hope for the future. I know I can trust you.  You were always the smarter of the two of you. Having a second son was a mistake, but your mother insisted.”

 _Genji was not a mistake._ “I don’t know where he was for the first of the weekend, but he was with me for the rest.” Technically, it’s not a lie. He wills himself to meet his Father’s gaze.

“I already know the truth.” The elder Shimada blinks, slow and deliberate.

Hanzo swallows, mouth dry.

His father changes tactics. “Genji needs help, Hanzo. Loyalty to the family and the business is a valuable trait, but your brother must make his own mistakes. Face his own consequences. Look at where he's ended up. I'm trying to protect both him and my empire. I need you to help me, so I can help him. ”

“I am being honest. I did not find him until late Sunday. He had been spending the night with his friends. I am not familiar with any of them.”

“He spent the night at a friend's house.” His father taps his fingers together. Hanzo’s breath hitches in his throat. He’s misstepped, and there is no way out. “His companion from the disgrace that was Thanksgiving, you mean.”

“I do not-”  He stops himself, he’s already said too much.

The elder Shimada tilts his head once, a thin smile on his lips.“Thank you, Hanzo. Your research about that piece of offal’s previous encounters with the law means it will be easy to cut that cancer from Genji's life. You did your brother a great favor today. I will handle the rest.”

Clasping his hands behind his back, his father stands. Hanzo steps aside to let him pass. At the door, he pauses, turning to face him once more. “You know Genji needs to be held to a higher standard. He _will_ come to heel.”

Hanzo stares at his now empty chair, not trusting himself to speak. He shouldn’t have ever tried to subvert his Father’s wishes.

His Father always gets his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art of Dad Shimada provided by the wonderful [Freebooter4ever](http://freebooter4ever.tumblr.com/) who has done so much amazing art for this fic!!!


	4. About the Trouble I'm In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WELP Good news is I'm not dead and neither is Jesse, yay
> 
> also we have some dad gabe, pharah and jesse being siblings, and now were going to teach genji how to make real freinds 
> 
>  
> 
> unbeated so sorry for typos

Jesse hums softly as he starts to sweep the kitchen floor, the tune cheery and bright.  With only the cleaning to attend to, his shift was finally over and he was very much looking forward to his bed.

Gabe had already left, leaving him to close up. He didn't mind, since his boss had opened it was only fair.  The restaurant's dishwasher, Torb was long gone as well, clocking out right after the dinner rush was over, so Jesse was alone in the kitchen. If needed he could run the last few dishes through the machine himself. Pharah was also the only one out front. Tuesdays were almost always slow enough to send the waitstaff home a little early and today was no exception.

He'd gotten the Saturday off for the concert with no fuss, even as short notice as it was. He was even more surprised when Gabe simply told him to have a good time, waving him away before Jesse could stammer out a ‘thanks, boss.'

Well, he was certainly planning on it. He would have never splurged for tickets like this on his own, so, hell, though if it wasn't a date, it _was_ going to be a treat and he intended to enjoy every damn minute of it. An early Christmas present, really.

He realizes he's been sweeping the same corner for a minute now, a dopey grin plastered on his face.   _Not a date_ , he reminds himself again, a little more firmly.

Hanzo's almost pleading expression, and how nervous he was upon asking. Dang cute. It wasn't fair, he muses. Got his hopes up for nothing.

Friends, he reminds himself. Being friends is just as good.

 _It's not a date._  

But maybe, one day, it could be?

He's not even sweeping now. Shaking his head he places the broom back in its corner, chuckling at his own puppy dog crush. It'd be dumb of him to ruin everything because he had the hots for a guy who wasn't interested in that way. Hanzo and Genji were just being nice. _‘Sides, why would someone with looks and money like that ever want with a friggin line cook?_

The jingling of the bell over the front entrance catches his ear, pulling him out of his little reverie.  They should be locked up by now, it was quarter past 10 pm. He starts towards the kitchen doors, intending to peek through the glass.

"Good evening, but we're closed." The lack of patrons and music in the restaurant make it easy to hear Pharah before he can see out to the front. "Is there something I can help you with, officers?"

Fear pools deep in his stomach.

"Where is Jesse McCree?" The new voice is loud and urgent.  

He takes a faltering step back, heart in his throat.

"He's in the back, I'll get him - Hey! Wait! Wait a second!"'

With a crash both swinging doors are kicked inward,  three officers barging into the kitchen with guns drawn. Shouted demands echo in the small space, orders to get his hands up and freeze. It takes everything he has not to bolt.  Pharah follows right on their heels.

"HANDS UP!"

Fighting down his spiking panic he raises his hands above his head, unable to stop the tremor in his fingers.  

"Get down on the ground!"

All he can seem to focus on is the weapons pointed at his chest. It's as if his muscles are frozen in place.

"Get down on the ground _NOW_!"

Time slows to an agonizing crawl.  With sheer willpower forces his knees bend, hands still high in the air, eyes still locked onto the gleaming barrel of the gun.  

"You hear me, fucker? Get on the damn ground!" Stepping forward, the largest of the three officers waves his pistol in sharp jerks, finger curled over the trigger.

Panic chokes him like a vise around his throat as he recognizes the leading officer. Petras.

His failure to move fast enough gets him tackled. With a crack, his chin smacks into the tile floor and he feels the skin split.

"Oh my god-" Pharah's startled cry carries over the commotion of the officers. "Jesse!"

There's a knee digging into his back and his arms are wrenched hard behind him, another officer holding his head down against the floor. His heart is racing, he can taste blood on his tongue.

"Stop moving or I'll use the taser!"

"I ain't resistin'!" He tries to let himself go limp but the pain from the way they have his arms makes him tense despite his best efforts. "I swear-!

"What the _fuck_ is your problem with him?!" Pharah is shouting now. "You can't just do this!"

 _"Don't fucking move."_ Officer Petras has him pinned, growling directly into his ear. "Don't move an inch, we will use force-"

Cold metal circles his wrist as someone else cuffs him. _Don't fight it._ Jesse squeezes his eye closed and forces himself to exhale.   _Don't fight it._

"What the fuck!? Why are you arresting him?!" Pharah shouts, anger clipping her words. "You can't just come in here and-"

"Ma'am, with all due respect, _shut up_. We have a warrant, he's armed and dangerous. Stay away."

"For _what?!"_

"It doesn't concern you." Petras spits. "Let us do our job, ma'am, you just sit tight."

With the weight of the officer pinning him, it's hard to get a full breath. His chin is throbbing.  Hands are digging through his clothes, grabbing at his pockets.

His head spins.

The man's knee shifts again, right into the small of his back, and he bites back a pained groan. His breath hisses through his teeth in short huffs instead.

Pharah steps closer, ignoring the officer's command. "Get off of him, you're crushing him! He's not even doing anything- "

"Take her the fuck out of here." The officer sitting on him snaps. "Or we'll take her into custody too."

Footsteps from his right and the other officers step over him. He can hear Pharah still protesting as she's practically dragged out of the kitchen.

"So, scumbag," Petras leans over,  weight still planted firmly on Jesse's back. "Remember me? It's been awhile. Turns out you just couldn't stay out of trouble."

Of all the fucking cops in San Diego, it had to be him.

Officer Petras, who had arrested him at least half a dozen times in his youth. It became personal after number three when he'd head-butted the officer in the face and fractured the man's eye socket. They'd dislocated his shoulder for that, but it felt like an even trade at the time.

Only one officer returns. Petras finally stops fucking kneeling on his rib cage and Jesse readily takes a full breath. Blood from the split of his chin has run into the grout of the tiles.  For a moment he feels guilty for the mess the kitchen has become.

The officers talk in the background, leaving him face down on the floor. He knows better than to move. Sirens wail in the alley, more cars pulling up to the scene.

Hopefully, Pharah isn't causing any trouble. Ana will kill him if she ends up in jail with him. The thought makes him sick to his stomach, more so than the nearly overwhelming anxiety pf having his arms locked behind him. The last thing he wanted to see was his loved ones getting arrested on his account.

Footsteps by his head bring him back to the present.. "You better stay still and cooperate with us, McCree." Officer Petras sneers. "Or maybe I'll break your arm for real this time."

The edge of heavy boot presses down on his elbow. It hurts, badly, the cuffs cutting into his wrists, and he can't help but shift away from the pain.

Officer Petras growls. "I told you not to fucking move!"

Prongs dog into his flesh and every muscle seizes at once.

He hears himself yell.

And then he blacks out.

When he comes to, he's disoriented and can only smell the rusty tang of dried blood.

* * *

Genji wishes his he was better at keeping his promises.

Restlessly, he starts drumming his fingers along the interior plastic of his friend's car. In his pocket, his phone rings again, for what has to be the fifth time in a row. A glance shows him Hanzo's number, but he makes no move to answer it.  A police car speeds by them, lights flashing, the noise of the siren briefly overwhelming the thumping music in the car.  

"Some fucker's in trouble," From the front seat, Vijay laughs. "Third car headed that way in five minutes. Alex, you'd better actually DD this time or that's gonna be us in a few hours."

Genji grits his teeth and the drumming becomes more pronounced.  

The voices of the other people are starting to grate on his ears, and it hits him that he doesn't want to be here anymore. Nor does he want to go out to yet another club, with other people who wanted to escape. Breaking their promises too.

His phone vibrates. Reaction automatic, he thumbs the button to check the screen. Again, it's Hanzo's number and he moves to put it down even as the words register in his mind.

_Father is going after Mcree_

He's halfway through typing a response when the second message comes in.

_Genji I need your help_

His curls his fingers into fists, phone balled in one hand. Father always knew.

"Drop me off."

"What? Now?"  Vijay cranes his head to see into the backseat. "Genji, you were gonna be our ticket in! You got us on the VIP list, you can't just bail on me like that, this is my twenty-first birthday bash!"

"Yeah, I can." His reply is sharper than intends. "Just give the coordinator my name, they know me. I got shit to do. Drop me off."

"Right here?" Vijay sounds unconvinced. They're ways from downtown, in the more residential area. The streets are poorly lit and foot traffic is non-existent, a far cry from the bright and busy night scene they usually haunted. "You sure?"

"Yea." He shrugs, forcing himself to be casual. "My bro is pestering me, gotta do some business stuff. Yakuza shit, you know the deal."

That earns him a laugh from the other people in the car, and the owner pulls back over to the curb.

"Hit us up later," Vijay waves. " We'll be there all night, and I'm planning on being too shitfaced to see let alone walk."

"If Onyx will let us in now! If we have to relocate to Whiskey Girl I'm going to freak." From the back seat Alessand sighs. "I can't believe party boy Genji is bailing to go do work, ugh."

"Duty calls." He waves his hand, purposefully nonchalant.  "Peace. Don't do any drugs that I wouldn't do."

The car finally pulls away, and he smashes the return call button hard enough that he nearly drops the phone.

Hanzo picks up on the first ring. "I have been trying to reach you for-"

"What the shit Hanzo," He cuts his brother off. "You said he wouldn't care!"

"I was wrong, he's furious-" His brother's words are rushed, a sure sign of his panic. "He came to the office and told me point blank. He's going after McCree. I'm sure he's going to have him arrested, it might have already happened. He asked me to dig up his old criminal records right after Thanksgiving but that was before I knew-"

" _What?_ Hanzo, what the _hell_." Anger snakes into his chest, and he sputters into the phone. "You did that? You just fucking pulled receipts on the guy because he ticked off Dad at a bullshit dinner? Do you have any idea how fucked that is?"

"I-" He can picture Hanzo pacing as he talks. "I was doing what I thought was appropriate-"

"Do you just do whatever Dad wants you to do?" Genji hisses. "This is the same shit I was talking about, Hanzo. You're fucking spineless."

"Genji, this is _not_ the time," Hanzo growls back. "I was just trying to do what was right, I didn't think Father would seriously go after him! And I didn't call you so you could berate me. "

"The fuck else you want from me?" Genji snaps. "It's not like I can do anything else. "

"You, of all people, should know how Father is." The receiver goes static as Hanzo sighs. "I can get this under control. If you will just help me. _Please."_

* * *

Jesse sits alone. The holding cell is cold and barren, his head is throbbing and his chin hurts worse. There is no clock, but he knows it's been hours.

"Ain't I supposed to get a lawyer if I want?" He's managed to drag himself sitting, even with his hands still cuffed behind his back. "Cuz if I ain't got one by now you bet I'm sure as shit gonna sue all you asshats when I get out of here!"

Same as the last fifty things he shouted, there is no answer.  His right eye is nearly swollen shut, and he's not sure if that happened when he'd first been tackled or after he'd been tased. At least nothing feels broken, this time.

"Fuck all y'all!"

Red stains spot down his white work shirt, though the bleeding had slowed hours ago. Another full body shiver goes through him, he bites his lip to ground his thoughts.

He'd almost forgotten what this felt like.

"I didn't do jack shit this time!"

No answer besides the echo of his own words. But it's a distraction, and he desperately needs one. Anything to stop his mind from racing around in circles.

"I'm pretty sure this is ‘bout seventeen different types of illegal! I got rights too, ya dillweeds!"

Still nothing.

Every other time he'd been taken into custody it'd gone the same way. Get arrested, get brought down the station. Get booked. Sit around.  Get the option to post bail. Get out then go to court.

Even his worst offense - head-butting Officer Petras- had followed the same formula, though he'd sat in jail for almost three weeks after getting booked because he'd been a ward of the state with no cash to his name.

Tonight, he had been unceremoniously dumped in an empty holding cell.  No other officers in sight, no paperwork, no mugshot, no phone call.

_No one knows he's here._

He shakes his head to kill the thought, telling himself that it's just been a while. Almost six years, in fact. And yet fear gnaws in the hollow of his gut, every passing minute stretching like a rubber band before the snap. 

Down the hall, a door slams, making him jerk against the cuffs. He forces down another deep breath, trying to sit up a little straighter. Two pairs of footsteps, and the barred door for the holding room swings open. An officer he doesn't recognize crosses into the room, followed by a second, and he lets loose a breath he wasn't aware he'd swallowed.

"There you are. On your feet." The woman says, paperwork clutched in her hand. Staying silent, he leans forward and struggles to stand.

"You're still cuffed?" He hears the surprise in her voice. "Couldn't find your name in intake either, just your shit. That lazy sonofa-" She cuts herself off as the second cop, a younger man, gives her a questioning look.  

"I've been here all night, ma'am." He shrugs as best he can with his hands still constricted. "Can I give my family a call?"

Her frown deepens, though she shakes her head. "It's irrelevant now since you're being released. Your bail's been posted."

"Who posted my bail?" The other officer steps behind him, releasing his wrists. His arms swing like dead weight at his sides, all but numb. Attempting to shake them out only succeeds in causing an uncomfortable prickling sensation in his wrists. "I haven't talked to anyone yet."

"A Mr. Reyes, I believe." He should've expected that. Reyes had always been the one to come to get him before.  "Come with us."

They step out into the hall, one officer at his back, one at the front. It's quiet, the lights curiously low, the tile floor dingy. She leads him around a series of corners, before passing through a set of double doors, up a set of stairs, and into a much brighter hall. With each step, she keeps up a steady list of complaints under her breath. " _Nobody ever fucking cleans down here. Puting the prisoner in the ass end of unit two, what the fuck was he thinking? I don't have time go on a fucking treasure hunt for criminals, christ. "_

He swallows, licking his lips. None of this was anything he wanted to hear. He clears his throat, cautiously interrupting her. "Out of curiosity, ma'am, what was my bail set at?"

"Sixty thousand."

" _Sixty_?" He blanches. "Sixty _thousand_ and Gabe had that on hand?"

"Guess so." She replies flatly, unamused. "Court dates in the paper work. Miss it and you'll land your dumb ass in prison. Get arrested again and your bail is forfeited and you will end up in prison.  So much as get a parking ticket, you will-"

"End up in prison." He finishes. " I hear you, ma'am. Loud and clear."

"Good. Got any questions, get a lawyer." She frog marches him past the booking desk, only pausing to grab the baggie of his personal belongings before shoving him out to the hall, door slamming in his face.

He stares, clutching both the bag containing his phone and wallet and the packet of paper, thoroughly bewildered. When a hand comes to rest on his shoulder he nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Hey, kid." Gabe's voice sounds a bit rougher than normal, "The hell you got yourself mixed up in?"

Jesse runs a hand over his face, flinching as he feels the swollen skin under his eye.  "Hell if I know."

"You fucking idiot." Gabe shakes his head, then pulls him into a warm hug. For a moment, he's seventeen, scared out of his mind and on the verge of tears, seeking shelter in the first person who was ever there for him. A long shuddering breath leaves his lungs, then he steps back, steeling himself.

"I might be in some trouble."

"You think? Scared us all half to death. Again." Gabe doesn't quite let go, settling instead for a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get you home."

Jesse gladly follows.

* * *

"It's not good." Gabe waves the stack of papers as they walk to the parking garage. It's late, almost three a.m, the lot largely devoid of any other life.Their passing echoes back across the cold concrete, footsteps ringing loudly as the walk,  the only other sound is the faint buzzing of the overhead fluorescents.  

Gabe continues, tone disgusted. "The big thing you're getting charged for is felony robbery, felony drug trafficking, and resisting arrest because of course. According to this, you trespassed at that dinner party and stole a bunch of cash from the house."

He shoves his still half numb hands in his pockets in an attempt to stop his trembling, or at least hide it from Gabe. "You know I didn't actually do nothing, not this time."

"I know that, you know that, and the little green shit stain knows that. The problem is proving it."

No matter how what he did, the mistakes of his youth would never leave him, a ghost of regret that followed wherever he went. Every time things seemed to be taking a turn for the better, something turned up to bring his life to a screeching halt reminding him that he'd never be free from his past.  He blinks, and as the weight of resignation settles over his shoulders, he finally parses Gabe's words.

"Green shitstain? You mean Genji??"

"That little green shitstain, whatever his name is, who apparently has the cash in hand to bail you out." Gabe points his key fob at the car, the light blinking in response.  In the backseat, Genji sits upright and waves,  once he sees that they're watching he takes his index fingers and thumbs to make a heart.

"That asswipe," Gabe grumbles under his breath as pulls open the door. "And do me a favor, try and not bleed in my car."

Obediently Jesse pulls up the collar of his already ruined shirt and presses it against the split in his chin before sitting down.

"Hey Cowboy!" Genji leans forward between the two seats, managing to elbow Gabe in the face as he does so. "How was prison? You look like complete shi-"

"Sit down and buckle up Greenie." Gabe cuts Genji off mid-sentence with a palm over his face, shoving him backward. He turns to Jesse, ignoring the middle finger he gets from the other passenger. "He will not leave, and I wasn't about to let him wander around your house unsupervised."

Genji cackles at that. "Your dad doesn't like me very much."

"This kid, friend of yours, _whatever_ , paid your entire bail in cash. And somehow knew what shithole they dragged you off too." Gabe explains. "And while I'm grateful, I have questions."

"I figured you would." Jesse’s shoulders slump as he sinks further into the passenger seat. "What do I do about work? Do you want me coming in?"

"Hell no." Gabe growls. "Take a week off, maybe two. Stay close to home. And lay low."

Weary, Jesse grunts his assent. He can feel blood matting his beard to both his shirt and his face at this point, the barely scabbed over split had reopened sometime during the walk to the car. He definitely needs stitches.  Hopefully, he still has Angela's number.

"Y'know it was Petras who arrested me?"

"Yeah, I read the report. Fucking douche canoe." Gabe's knuckles go white on the steering wheel for a moment. "He claimed you tried to swing at him and that's why he tased you."

"I'm pretty sure he was trying to break my arm."

"Wouldn't put it past him. He's still mad about his face. In my opinion, it was an improvement. But none of this is getting to the real question, which is why arrest you now?"

Jesse doesn't answer, staring down instead.  Bruises from the handcuffs, a ridge of dark blotchy blue, cover the back of his free hand and he's sure the one pressing the shirt to face looks just as bad. The further they get from the jail, the more surreal the whole event becomes. 

Gabe, for his part, shoots Jesse a worried glance, then gives the brat in the back another hard glare. "I have a hunch that greenie knows all about it, and is neglecting to share."  

The smart-ass barely glances up from his phone. "Nope."

Gabe stares him down, gaze hard into the rearview mirror, eyebrows furrowed and the light from outside deepening the shadows around his eyes. He didn't spend his twenties in a spec op unit and the following two and half decades as a DEA agent in some of the most active country in the United States without learning how to be a rather intimidating.  

"Well," Greenie amends. "I have somewhat of a very small idea of what's happening. And that it involves my father being very upset with me, and therefore cowboy.  But don't worry, Hanzo said he has it totally one hundred percent under control."

"Can you elaborate?" Gabe prods. "How is your brother going to fix this?"

"I dunno." Genji admits. "I didn't ask for details."

"Where'd the money come from?"

"Dunno."

"What do you mean you don't know?" He can't mask the disbelief in his voice. "How do you not know where that much cash came from?"

"Gabe-" Jesse says quietly. 

" I mean _I_ don't _know_."  Greenie snarls. "Do you want me to spell it out for you?"

"Did your family-" 

Jesse reaches over and lays a hand on his shoulder, and he can feel the shakiness in his grip. "Gabe, it's fine."

He snaps his mouth shut. Later, he decides, he'll figure out what the fuck is going on, come hell or high water.   

Stuck to the holder on his dash, his phone chirps. His eyes flick to the screen to see the latest reply in a long chain of messages from Pharah. Good news, finally, though minor. He'd take whatever breaks they could get.

He shoots another glare at Genji, now with his hood over his head. Outloud, he reads off the text. "Pharah's meeting at your house. Angela's with her." 

 

* * *

 

The rest of the ride is uncomfortably silent. Gabe broods over the steering wheel and Genji slouches in the back, and Jesse doesn't have the energy to start a conversation.  Fareeha's car is parked in his driveway, the lights on inside his home. Both women greet them at the door; Pharah doesn't hesitate to pull him into a bear hug that crushes him more than the one from Gabe as they step inside the threshold.

"I thought that asshole was trying to kill you, honest to god." Her grip tightens, fiercely protective. "I heard you yell and I almost punched the cop babysitting me, Jesse. That is the most freaked out I have ever been and I have been shot at."

He returns her hug with one arm, mindful to keep from smearing blood on her clothes- the same black shirt and dark pants she was wearing at the restaurant. "Yeah, it sure didn't feel too good. What a fucking night."

"Glad you're home." She holds on for a long moment before releasing him. "But seriously, Jesse, are you okay?"

His answer is a morose shrug. Her expression drops further, sharp worry in every line. She's tired, exhaustion was written in the bags of her eyes and the disheveled ponytail she's pulled her hair into.

That exact same look has graced her mother's face no few times before.

"Yes, yes, we're all glad you're out of jail again, now let me see." As always, Angela is business first, shouldering past Pharah and aiming a penlight at his head. With a grimace, he pulls away the shirt, now firmly adhered to the hair in his chin.

"Ouch." Pharah winces. "That looks nasty."

Angela quickly dons gloves on from the pack she carries before placing a hand on his chin and angling his head upward so she can get a better look. The other three peer over her shoulders, Gabe's face a stony glower, Genji some form of morbidly curious, and Pharah sympathetic.

Angela ignores them, worrying at her lip for a moment before nodding to herself.

"If you weren't such a good friend of mine, I would tell you to go to urgent care. But it only needs a few stitches, and you don't seem concussed even with that awful contusion. I'll have you patched up in no time. You won't even have to shave."

He swears he's not the only one to breathe a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Ange, you're a real lifesaver."

"I know." She gives him a small smile, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I have lidocaine with me too, so this shouldn't hurt. Take a seat. And someone go get him a cold compress for his face."

He drops more than sits on his couch, taking the frozen bag of peas Gabe offers from his kitchen to press to his swollen skin around his eye. Angela has him lay down and tilt his head back, tutting to herself as she gently pulls the coarse hair of his beard aside. He does his best not to flinch as she cleans the wound. Thankfully, her hand is steady and she works quickly, a testament to her skill.

"Whoa." Genji inches closer as Angela tends to his injury. "Cowboy, I thought my life was crazy, but I have nothing on you. Getting beat up by cops, arrested, and now being patched up under the table by some back alley German doctor, now this is crazy. Like out of a fucking movie."

"Excuse me,"  Angela counters, even as she starts to thread her needle. "I can admit this is a tad unorthodox, but I am no rogue surgeon. And I am Swiss, not German."

"Not to mention she's actually a genius." Pharah gushes, and if he didn't currently have a needle in his chin he would have made a comment on her blatantly adoring tone.  "Dr. Angela Zieglar is one of the top prosthetic augmentation surgeons in the whole country, if not world. She's _amazing_."

He can see a faint blush rise in Angela's cheeks. "Oh hush, Fareeha, you are distracting me."

"So brilliant and beautiful," Genji almost purrs, now leaning over the doctor's shoulder. "I didn't know cowboy had such interesting friends."

"Give her some space," Pharah reaches over and hauls Genji back. "She's working over there."

Angela rolls her eyes, though her lips quirk in a small smile and he can't help but snort. Distractions aside, she makes short work of the cut. It only takes three stitches, and in a matter of moments she sits back and tells him to go wash up. Genji doesn't seem at all bothered by Pharah shutting him down, and as Jesse heads to his bathroom to shower and finally change out of his work clothes he hears him start to ask Angela about her work.

By the time he returns, the doctor has her tablet out and is showing off schematics for her current pet project, something to do with cutting edge artificial limb design. Hardly pausing for breath,  she gesticulates with her stylus as she highlights key points.  The other two listen in mute fascination, Pharah nodding with her features drawn in intense concentration while Genji simply stares, looking more than a little overwhelmed.

Gabe moves to intercept him as he goes to sit down, tilting his head towards the front door. "I'm gonna grab a smoke. Jesse?"

It's not really a question. Gabe clearly wants to talk, and more apparent, without anyone else present.

"Yeah. Sounds good." Jesse rubs at his good eye, still feeling on edge. Sleep will be impossible at this point. He can't seem to shake the feeling that he's walking into a pitfall, pulse erratic under his skin, even though he's safe back in his own home and surrounded with people who clearly care about him. He forces himself to take a deep breath that doesn't do anything to quell his anxiety. "Really need it, to be honest."

Stepping outside, Gabe lights his own cigarillo, then Jesse's when he notes that he's having trouble holding the flame steady. Jesse takes several long drags, staring off into the darkness. His foster father knows him well enough to wait.

Breathe in, holding the smoke in his mouth and letting the sweet, heady flavor settle on his tongue and behind his lips. The taste is familiar; honey in the first draw that melds into something earthy and heavy, leaving a hint of spice.  

Exhale, blowing smoke in the night.

"I'm gonna ask you again, mijo." Gabe breaks the silence first, speaking in soft Spanish. The cigarillos are more than half gone.  "What the fuck did you get into?"

"I told you," Jesse holds the cigarillo loosely, gently tapping ash in the tray. His fingers are steady, finally. "I don't know."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Gabe sighs, leaning forward to rest his weight on his elbows. "The Shimadas are a _big_ deal. Your green buddy there? Probably should'a been in jail half a dozen times by now, just counting drug charges alone. He's gotten pulled over multiple times for traffic incidents, everything from DUI's to street racing. Been spotted running around with all sorts of dealers, con men, or other unsavory characters. Has a reputation for being a real partier, and that's coming from people who spend most of their lives partying."

Jesse thinks back on what he's seen of Genji, Hanzo, and their house, and it doesn't really surprise him. "Huh."

"Despite all that, he's never had a single arrest." Gabe shakes his head.  "Every time he gets into trouble, his family is there to get him out. Nothing ever makes it to a permanent record, nothing ever goes to court. The only thing out there is the initial police logs, and Pharah's Helix contact has a feeling that there's been more that have been pulled. He's trouble, through and through."

"Think I heard the same thing said ‘bout me." Jesse shoots him a frown, shaking his head in disagreement. "How someone grew up don't make them a bad person, Gabe."

"I'm not done." Gabe snorts, a clear indication of his disdain. "Compared to the rest of the immediate family, that kid is probably the most honest of the bunch. Their father is a huge name in business. We're talking maybe close to the same level as Rothschild type shit. There have been charges against company officials of extortion, racketeering, stock manipulation, insider trading to name a few."

Gabe gestures with his cigarillo, the red end marking bullet points in the air. "Court records go back decades, but nothing that sticks because Shimada senior is rich enough to pay his way out. He's personal friends with no few politicians, lobbyists, and it's his money that got this city's current chief of police his job. But, unlike a lot of other rich as shit families, they try to stay quiet- no buildings with names, no charity balls, they don't want to be really known to the general public. Not that they don't throw money around to buy influence.  They own half the buildings downtown, and the main business is a sorta parent company to a ton of the other smaller ones."

Jesse doesn't answer, taking another drag on the cigarillo. He'd figured they had money, and a lot of it, that fact was painfully obvious. And Genji had made no effort to hide his bad habits.

"That's just what we can find." Gabe continues, shaking his head. "The older brother? The pretty one you're crushing on so hard? We can't dig up nothing on him besides the barest mentions. But I get the impression that he's cut from the same cloth as his father, and that means he's only got what morals he's paid for."

"That's a harsh thing to say about someone you've never met. Hanzo ain't like that." The words are out of his mouth before he realizes it. "I mean he's-"

"You're being naive."Gabe stubs the remnants of his cigarillo out on the rail, before turning to fully face Jesse, and if possible his expression is more frigid than he can recall ever seeing before. "That all being said, I have no fucking clue why that dickcheese paid your goddamned bail. Sixty grand. Sixty fucking grand, Jesse. Someone didn't want you getting out. You a thing, or what?"

"That ain't it, I just-" He gestures vaguely. "I helped Genji out cuz' he was in a rough spot, and Hanzo was real grateful, that's all."

"Mijo, anyone in that family could sneeze and buy this entire block of houses on accident. I don't think he knows the meaning of a being in a rough spot."

"Well, sure, but that's not what I meant." He feels like he's grasping at straws, but he knows that their is more to them than the first impression. "They're decent people, they just got dealt a shit hand. And I'm ain't just saying that-"

Gabe gives him a disbelieving stare. "You're serious."

"They're alright once you get to know them."

"I can't believe you." To his surprise, Gabe starts to laugh.  "Only you would say that someone born with a silver spoon in their mouth got a bad deal. Damn, kid. You're too forgiving."

Jesse takes another drag, crossing his arms in front of him and looking down. "I'm just being honest."

"Alright," Tugging at the brim of his beanie, Gabe acquiesces. "I'm not going to argue with you on that yet. What do you want to do? You're not going to listen to anything you don't want to hear anyway, so might as well tell me how you want to handle this."

He pulls the last of his tobacco from his lips, dropping it to the ground to crush it underfoot. "I'll get ahold of Hanzo. I think he might be more forthcoming than his brother. I don't think this was either one of their faults this all happened."

“Okay, mijo.” He rubs at the back of his neck, plainly reluctant. "If that's what you think is best. The hearing date next thing we need to work for. Best hope right now is that maybe the shitstain or the other fucker actually like you enough to get big shot mob boss dad to drop the charges."

"Hope so." He nods, eyes downcast.

"Jesse." Gabe pauses, taking a step closer. "Look, I don't tell you this enough, but I'm real proud of you. Really damn proud of you, especially this last year. I know just how hard you've worked to get here. Please don't throw everything away for people who treat your life like a goddamned game. You're better than that."

He looks up and sees the plain concern on Gabe's face, and can't think of anything reassuring to say.

"You two done out here?" Pharah cracks open the front door,  squinting at them suspiciously. "I sense feelings and I felt like I needed to interrupt. Pluuuuus, Angela just got called into work, but I don't have anything to do tomorrow, and it turns out Genji doesn't have anywhere to be either. So Jess, how does a movie night-slash-really early-morning sound?"

"Pretty damn good, actually." Jesse offers her a smile, grateful for her company. "I don't think I can sleep a wink anyway."

"Hopefully watching _Stagecoach_ for what has to be the one-hundredth time will put you out, but again you're a freak of nature who actually enjoys outdated genres so maybe not."

" _Stagecoach_ is a goddamn classic, _Fareeha_ , and if you actually watched it instead of complaining the whole time maybe you'd learn to appreciate art!"

Gabe clears his throat. "Before this dissolves any further, I'm going home. Got to get ahold of Jack and make sure he's not planning to go all vigilante in an attempt to save our best cook. Besides me of course."

He takes a step to leave. Jesse reaches out to stop him.

"Gracias, papá. Necesitaba escuchar eso."

His father grins, eyes crinkling in the light of the porch. "I meant it, mijo. Don't do anything stupid."

"That's asking him a bit much, don't you think?" Pharah quips. "Also, I said no more emotional crap. We have terrible movies to go watch with your weird rich yakuza friend."

"I can tell Ana raised you, you're merciless." Gabe focuses on her, eyebrows furrowed, though he's smiling. "I'm leaving, call me if anything comes up, and keep Jesse out of trouble."

"You can count on me." she gives a cheeky salute, smirking as well. "And don't lie, Tio, it doesn't suit you. I know Jack's at your house, I saw his car in the driveway when I went by tonight."

Gabe's face screws up into an approximation of flustered embarrassment, and without a word he retreats down the steps, Jesse and Pharah's amused laughter at his back.

* * *

 

Several minutes later, Jesse is no longer sure the impromptu movie session was a good idea. Genji is crouched in front of his DVD shelf, pulling out movie after movie and setting them aside with no regard to their previous order. His treasured collection of westerns, started from a single birthday present from Gabe, was something that he'd always managed to keep relatively organized no matter the disarray the rest of his living space feel into.  They were largely grouped alphabetically by title, with the exception of movie series which were kept together, and his favorites which had a home on the top shelf. Genji puts back discarded movies wherever they fit, but he's too exhausted to complain about it beyond his almost involuntarily cringe as he watches one case get placed upside down in the wrong spot.

Listening to what sounds like Pharah destroying his kitchen is another thing that goes on his too fucking drained to deal with this list. Her grumbling sounds personally affronted, and he wonders why she seems so worked up. It hadn't been that messy- he hardly cooked at home anyway. The last thing he had made had been pancakes, and that was only a few ish days ago. He just hadn't had time to clean up, yet.

He shifts and pillows his head against the armrest instead, closing his eye he can still see through while hoping the improvised cold pack will work quicker. The pain is more of a soft throbbing around the injured eye socket, not quite enough to be considered more than annoying, but the swelling makes him feel like he's trying to grow a second head under the skin and it's uncomfortably warm to the touch, not to mention the pinpricks of a headache behind his injured eye. He tugs the bag of peas higher onto his face, the cool ice offering some relief.

With his good eye, he stares down at the phone, hoping that they'll be some reply to the message he sent. There is yet to be an answer.

Eventually, Pharah pokes her head around the corner from the kitchen, shaking a trash bag that seems to be filled with what was left in his fridge to get his attention. He blinks at her, confused, as her eyebrows are furrowed and she's now wearing  frown that could be either interpreted as ‘concerned for your living situation' or more probably ‘disappointed in your life choices'

"Jess, when is the last time you went grocery shopping? Everything is expired!"

He grimaces. It's been awhile. "A few weeks?"

"What the hell have you been eating?" She drops the bag on the ground, disappearing back around the corner.  "Do not tell me you've been living off leftovers from work."

"Uhh." Quietly nudges the stack of takeout containers further behind the couch with his free hand. "I cook all day, I don't want to have to cook more when I get home. ‘Sides, it's kinda healthy."

He hears her snort from the kitchen. "Two other questions. One. I found popcorn, finally, but do you have any idea how old it is?"

"I had popcorn?"

"Oh good lord." She comes back into view waving, said box in her hand.  "Four years ago, Jess. This popcorn expired four years ago. I didn't even know popcorn expired!  Why do you still have this? You haven't been in this apartment for a year, did you specifically bring expired popcorn with you when you moved? I don't understand."

He huffs. "Throw it out then, Christ."

"I am.  Also, we're getting delivery."

"Only place that's open at 4 a.m is shitty Chinese. And I'm kinda broke."

"My treat." She says, adding more boxes to the trash bag. "You've earned if for somehow surviving into adulthood."

"You're too kind, little sis" He doffs an imaginary hat, gesturing as if he's placing it over his heart.

"Don't thank me yet. Second question."  She crosses her arms. "Why the hell is your guitar laying out in the middle of the kitchen next to the goddam trash can?"

"Uh-"

"Is it even in tune?" She turns and picks up the instrument, producing faint discordant strum as she checks.

"Argh, of course not." She places the strap over her neck, coming over to sit space on the couch, shaking her head at him. "Sheesh, Jesse."

Genji turns to watch, the growing pile of movies temporarily forgotten. "You guys play?"

"Yep." Pharah says, plucking each string in turn,  then turning the peg till it matches the note she plays on its neighbor.  "Both of us. Gabriel taught me when I was growing up, and then Jesse when he started living with him. "

"She's way better than me." He grumbles, the sound muffled by the bag of peas. "‘Prolly better than Gabe too, now. And I haven't played in ages."

"I can see that." She says, then strums across all the strings at once. Satisfied with the sound, she starts to softly pick a tune.

"Creedence?" The sound is familiar, an old favorite of his.  "Bad Moon-

"-Rising, yeah, first thing that came to mind." She says, still playing softly. "I know you know the words, Jess."

"So the big scary guy." Genji cocks his head to the side. "Taught you two guitar?"

"Mhm. He's a drummer at heart though. Has a whole studio setup in his house." Pharah elaborates. "When my mum was traveling for work I would spend hours over there, playing music. Then Jesse showed up and started playing too, and it turns out he's a damn good singer. Me and tío Gabi sound more like dying horses. Anyway, we made this dumb little band that and played at the restaurant when it opened, just the three-"

"Wait wait wait." Genji holds his hands up, stemming the flow of words. "Cowboy, you sing?"

"Kinda sorta." He sits up, and the peas, now half melted, slide down to rest on his shoulder. "I talked to your brother about it. I busked for a bit too when I was trying to move out."

"Really? Like downtown?"

"Yeah. On the boardwalk or the Prado." He rolls his shoulders, flips the frozen produce over and then settles back again.

"Shit, man, I probably walked by you a hundred times then." Genji laughs.

"Wouldn't doubt it. But there are tons of buskers out there. And a lot of them are cool people. Met Lucio that way."

"I don't know if you know him yet." Pharah tells Genji. "The guy with the long dreads? He's our barback for the restaurant. Smart kid. Works weekends mostly."

"Did he tell you he finally earned enough to get into his EMT class?" Jesse asks her. "Told me last time he worked."

"I heard. He's going to do great." She grins, fingers still dancing across the strings "Do you play Genji?"

"If by play," Genji holds his fingers up to make air quotes. "You mean that during my on-going rebellious phase I spent a lot of money on a bass guitar that I would wail on as loudly as possible in the middle of the night, then yes.

"Why bass?"

"‘Cuz there's only four strings and it's loud. I was never any good though, and then was when I was, shit,  sixteen? Long time ago."

"You know if you ever wanted to actually learn..." Pharah's playing slows,  plucking a single chord as she thinks. "It might be fun if we started a-"

Jesse's stomach gives a loud grumble, reminding him that he never got to actually eat dinner tonight.  "Hey, sis, hate to interrupt you but I am hungry enough that these half thawed and probably expired peas are looking appetizing. I'll order if you don't."

Reluctantly she sets the guitar down. "Where's the case?"

"Hanging up in my bathroom."

"That's a weird spot for it."

"Yeah, well Genji puked on it. That's why we're friends now."

"Sorry about that." Genji says, sounding sincerely contrite.

"Believe it or not, that's not unusual for him." She laughs.  "Want your regular, Jess?"

"Please and thank you, sugar."

She stands up and holds her phone up to her ear, turning to walk to the kitchen.  "Genji?"

"Eh, I'll eat anything."

"Pu pu for two, then, we can share." She ducks around the corner. "Hi, can I put in an order…."

"So…" Genji too stands upright, his final selection of movies in hand. "I'm curious. If we hadn't paid your bail, what would've happened?"

Jesse sighs. "I would'a sat in fucking holding till someone came up with the money to post. More than likely would'a had to go through a bondsman."

"And then what? Are you just out the money?"

"You get bail back if you go to court, it ain't a bribe. You only lose it if you don't show up or try to run, or get arrested again." He explains, quirking an eyebrow as he watches Genji pokes around one final time under his tv set.  "You seriously never been arrested before?"

"Never ever." Genji shakes his head, then saunters over to the couch to plop down on the seat Pharah just vacated. On the screen, the opening title of _Unforgiven_ appears. "I'm lucky, I guess. That and my family has friends in high places, as I've been told. Repeatedly."

"Guess so." He muses. "Makes me wish I had that kinda life."

"No, you don't." Genji pulls his knees up to his chin, resting his head on his arms, voice quiet. "Nothing is ever good enough.  Ask Hanzo if you can ever get him to drink, that's about the only time he agrees with me."

"Speaking of you and your brother..." Jesse reaches for his phone again. "Thank you kindly for getting me out of there. You two didn't have to do that."

"Hey, I wasn't doing anything fun tonight anyway." Genji shrugs. "But if you're trying to talk to Hanzo, good fucking luck."

Jesse glances at him, looking up from the screen. There is still no reply.

"He's going to be in damage control mode, gotta make everyone happy. Can't have dad know that we don't agree with him trying to throw people in jail who don't fucking deserve it." Genji mutters. "Hanzo's really a fucking idiot, sometimes."

"Food'll be here in forty minutes, amigos." From the kitchen, there's a clatter as Pharah digs into his fridge again, returning with soda for each in her hands. "Scooch your butt, greenie, that is my seat." She drops onto the couch, handing out the drinks. "Welcome to movie night at McCree's, where it's always high noon."

"High noon?" Genji snorts, relocating to perch on the armrest.

"I saw you digging through his movie collection. Now tell me, was there anything else, anything at all, besides campy westerns?"

"Did you come over here to hang out with me or make fun of me?" Jesse pokes her in the side with his foot. "And not to change the subject, but how is it that you were able to get ahold of Angie so fast this time of night?"

To her credit, Pharah doesn't bat an eye.  "I have her number, duh. She is one of my best friends. Some of us have those."

"Oh?" Jesse feels a sly grin breaking across his face. "So that's why you been blushing at her the whole night?"

She chokes on her drink.

"Haha! I thought so!!" He crows, triumphant. "I'm gonna tell your mom how you have a crush on the good doctor!"

"Shush!"  She takes the couch pillow and whaps him with it. "I'm not the one who just got bailed out of prison. I am the golden child here!"

"Oh shit, you and Angela are a thing?" Genji tilts his head. "I wouldn't of hit on her if I knew that."

"Well, no, not really, but-" Pharah buries her face in the palms "Arghhh I don't even know and I don't want to talk about it."

Jesse laughs, finally starting to relax around his friends. "Genji, I'm pretty sure you'd hit on anything with a pulse."

"If they're single or open to hookups, sure. I do have some morals, you know." Genji gives another cheeky smirk.  "Although,  if you do make a move on the Doctor, I wouldn't  mind spectatinoof-"

Pharah's well-aimed throw hits Genji square in the face, weaponized pillow knocking him to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see the bad moon arising.  
> I see trouble on the way.  
> I see earthquakes and lightnin'.  
> I see bad times today.
> 
> Don't go around tonight,  
> Well, it's bound to take your life,  
> There's a bad moon on the rise.
> 
> I hear hurricanes ablowing.  
> I know the end is coming soon.  
> I fear rivers over flowing.  
> I hear the voice of rage and ruin.
> 
> Hope you got your things together.  
> Hope you are quite prepared to die.  
> Looks like we're in for nasty weather.  
> One eye is taken for an eye.
> 
> \----------------  
> WILLING TO LIE HAS FAN ART NOW!!  
> Thank you to http://freebooter4ever.tumblr.com/ who made art for like all of chapter 1 and i shit you not i cried
> 
>  
> 
> [="http://freebooter4ever.tumblr.com/post/164079871684/its-thanksgiving-want-to-skip-that-long">part1]()  
> [="http://freebooter4ever.tumblr.com/post/164313396354/hanzos-gaze-meets-his-own-then-his-expression>part 2]()  
> [="http://freebooter4ever.tumblr.com/post/164918081804/willing-to-lie-by-revolverwaffle-thanksgiving">part3]()  
> [="http://freebooter4ever.tumblr.com/post/165136479929/jesse-tries-to-think-of-something-else-to-say">part4]()
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO I AM REALLY REALLY SORRY FOR THE SEVEN MONTH HIATUS THAT REALLY WASN'T INTENTIONAL long story short im both stupid busy and I gotta a bad case of joints hurty no worky, which means spending any lengthy amount of time at a keyboard pretty much freezes up my hands and wrists, and makes it hard to walk because IM POSSIBLY ARTHRITIC AT 26 APPARENTLY and that makes me have the sads, so anyway tl;dr I am super fucking sorry for being a human disaster
> 
> BUT ON THE BRIGHT SIDE I GOT A HUGE HEAD START ON CHAP 5 BECUASE THIS WAS HITTING 15K BEFORE I WENT FUCK IT AND SPLIT IT UP SO I PROMISE THAT ITS NOT GONNA BE ANOTHER SEVEN MONTHS BEFORE I UPDATE AGAIN


	5. Because I'm in Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What a 'totally-not-a-date' between friends, right?  
> This chapter ended up at a little over 11k words, and probably 8k of them are just fluffy 'not date' mchanzo interaction /shrugs
> 
> SHOUT OUT TO [Freebooter4Ever](http://freebooter4ever.tumblr.com/) For not only GIFTING ME TONS OF AMAZING FAN ART but taking the time to Beta this on two separate occasions!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH OTL OTL OTL
> 
> pls feel free to yell out me for any mistakes I did miss  
> or just yell at me in general, i live on reader reactions :3

Early afternoon finds the three in various stages of awareness. Pharah is out cold on the couch, mouth hanging in an open snore with her feet in Jesse's lap. He spent most of the morning dozing on and off, eyelids heavy while resting his head against his hand, though he can't seem to sink into a deeper slumber.  The worn red serape that often hangs on the back of his couch now partially covers them both. He vaguely recalls Pharah grabbing it at some point in the small hours of the morning, as it was the warmest blanket he owned.

Genji has yet to sleep a wink. His guest has buried himself in a mass of blankets on the floor with only the shape of the mound suggesting that he is sitting upright. He must have found every other covering in Jesse's apartment, including the comforter from his bed and the spare sheets in his closet, finishing the nest off with more pillows than Jesse was aware he even owned. From within the pile comes the faint tapping of a finger on phone screen- Genji’s constant texting.

Jesse squints at his T.V screen. The afternoon glare makes it hard to see.

"When'dya put on _Magnificent Seven_?"

Genji shrugs, the mass shifting with the motion. "After I finished _Young Guns._ "

"I slept through _Young Guns_? That's one of my favorites!"

"You've said that about every movie I put on so far."

"And?"

"It was ok. I guess." Genji turns to face him, still neck deep in blankets.   "You're still coming to the concert, right? It's this weekend. December 6th."

Jesse yawns, jaw creaking. "Probably not a good idea. Gabe seemed pretty adamant that I should lay low."

"Pssh, so?" Genji smirks. "I mean, what the fuck else are you going to be doing?"

"Ehhh…" The real answer is nothing. For hours and hours till his court arraignment where he'd probably get the book thrown at him and end up in jail for the rest of his life.  "I dunno."

Genji senses his weakness. "Seriously, cowboy. Hanzo said you were excited, and when's the next time you'll get a chance like this?"

"It's probably a bad idea, as much as I'd love to go. I get into trouble again and I'll be back in jail and on the hook for that sixty grand."

"Don't get into trouble then." Genji scoffs.

"It ain't that easy. Plus your dad has a personal vendetta against me or something."

"No no no!" Genji bounds to his feet, and a half second later Jesse finds his finger pointing squarely in his face. " _Fuck_ what my father thinks. I'll bet he's even already over this. Everyone acts as if my Dad can do whatever the fuck he wants because he's rich, but he's just an asshole with an ego.  Don't let him ruin your life because he thinks he can."

"It don't work like that for people like me." Jesse argues, swatting the offending digit away. "I _can't_ get arrested again."

"Then don't." Genji rolls his eyes as if it was really that simple. "Is it against the law to do fun things when you're out on bail?"

"It's not breaking the law I'm worried about." Jesse counters. "I'm going to have to say no. Sorry."

Genji gives him an outright pout. "Just think on it, Cowboy. If you're already miserable what's the point of staying home by yourself?"

Inhaling through his nose, Jesse gives a long sigh. "I'll let you know if I change my mind."

The feral grin he gets in response should worry him.

* * *

 

The next few days he spends at his apartment, which he was expecting, with a steady stream of company, which he wasn't. Genji takes off in a squeal of tires after announcing that his ride was here, right in the middle of _True Grit_ . Pharah stays with him a bit longer, doing her damnedest to get him to talk. He does his best to assure her that he really is fine and that she should _really_ stop worrying about it. She finally leaves after borrowing his shower, his last clean pair of sweats and giving him a hug goodbye.

Jesse settles onto his couch, eyes on the ceiling and debating if it was really worth it to get another helping of pork fried rice from his fridge. In a melancholy fugue he sits, mind circling around the same few questions. Genji had been evasive when he tried to get a few more details and he picked up on his reluctance to talk about what seemed to be a touchy subject, something Jesse understood all too well. More worrisome was that Hanzo still hasn't answered him either.

Pulling out his phone again, he starts a new text with _‘Thank you so much, you have no idea how big of a favor you just did for me.'_ He keeps typing without letting himself take the time to think and several minutes later he has a message that takes up most of the screen, ending with _‘I really need to talk to you.'_

He stares at it, then erases the last sentence. He doesn’t want to seem needy.

The man has just effectively loaned him 60k, and for all intents and purposes didn't seem to care. Hanzo probably doesn't want three paragraphs of word vomit about how thankful he was.  Grimacing, he holds the back button down to delete the rest of the message and tries again.

_Why did you bail me out?_

He erases that as well, it sounds ungrateful.

_Call me, please?_

That too gets deleted.

He finally settles on something short and concise, or so he hopes. _‘Hey, didn't know if you saw my last text, but thanks again for getting me outta there. Hope I can talk to you about it all, promise I won't leave you on the hook for the cash.'_

Scowling, he sends it before he can second guess himself yet again, then nearly drops his phone as someone thumps against his front door.

"YO CABRON!" Sombra shouts, emphasizing her words with another solid kick. "I GOT FOOD, OPEN YOUR DAMN DOOR!"

"Jesus christ, Som." He grumbles back, hauling himself to his feet. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?"

Swinging the door open reveals not only Sombra, her bright purple hoodie stark in the street light, but Lena and Amelie as well. All  three are burdened with paper bags of takeout from Watchpoint. He rubs at his good eye, if they were here the restaurant must be closed for the night. That meant it was close to 11 pm, and he had only just now gotten off the couch from when Pharah had left.

 

"I told her to knock." Amelie says while brushing past him, dressed in a dark buttoned jacket and red scarf. "She has no manners."

"Nice to see y'all too." He replies, holding the door wider for the other two.

"Why are you sitting in the dark, amigo?"  Sombra flicks the lights on before setting her food down on the table, and he sees her eyes widened as she turns to face him. "Holy shit, your _face_!"

"Ehh..." He shrugs, trying not to wince at the sudden brightness. "It's not that bad."

Lena stands on tiptoe to get a closer look, her eyebrows nearly hidden by her bangs. "Looks like you're growing an eggplant out of your eye socket. Can you even see?"

He waves their concern away, forcing a grin. "I'm fine,  Angie checked. And it's already _way_ better than it was last night."

"No wonder Gabe was so pissed." Lena joins Sombra on the couch, beginning to pull out containers of food. "He was in an awful mood all day today, even making Jack go sour. What the heck happened?"

Jesse takes the foil covered burger that Sombra hands him, and his stomach rumbles loudly. They'll figure it out sooner or later, so he might as well tell them.

"Got arrested at work, long and short of it. Not sure what's going on exactly, but I'm out on bail. And before you ask, No _,_ I did _not_ break any laws this time."

The three exchange silent looks. Amelie gives a small shake of her head, and thankfully the subject is dropped and he get to eat in peace. Between bites of his burger, the three fill him in on the current state of affairs at the restaurant.

"They called Rein to fill in for you." Sombra says, kicking her feet up to rest on his coffee table. "Starting Friday, till whenever your ‘vacation' is over."

"Ain't he retired?"

"He was." Amelie sniffs, picking at a wilted salad. "He should have stayed retired. He stopped in today to talk with Gabriel, and he seems to think that we desperately need to add back sauerkraut to the menu."

Lena digs in the container for the last remnants of her fries. "Oh, lay off ‘im. Rein's a great cook, and he's so cheery! It's nice to have him back for a bit. Plus Torby has someone to harass again."

"Sure, but he won't cook what I want for dinner, it's just-" Sombra puffs her chest out and drops her voice in a poor imitation of Reinhardt's accent. "You should veally try der curryvurst, mein klein Freund." and then I'm stuck eating some shitty form of sausage for dinner the third night in a row."

"Aww, you girls telling me you miss my cooking?" Jesse grins broadly, despite the tinge of pain from his eye.

"Do not flatter yourself, mon vieux." Amelie replies. "You just happen to be the most easily manipulated cook  in the kitchen."

By Thursday he's smoked through a pack and a half of cigarettes and still hasn't managed more than three consecutive hours of sleep. Neither of the Shimada brothers have responded to his texts, and he's starting to wonder if he didn't just dream up the entire chain of events after Thanksgiving night. Maybe he cracked his head open jumping the fence and this was all some sort of coma-induced hallucination brought about by a dumb crush and overactive imagination.

Gabe calls him at 7:30 in the morning, and he lets it ring three times before picking up, so at least it appears as if he was sleeping rather than questioning reality while laying flat out on his couch.

"Morning, mijo. Jack found you a lawyer. You good if I pick you up around nine for a meeting?"

"Yeah," He forces himself to sit upright. "I'll be good to go."

"Great, make sure you wear a nice shirt, and a tie won't hurt."

Gabe comes right on time, with the bonus of hot coffee which Jesse inhales greedily. They head downtown, towards a strip mall. Gabe points out the office as they hunt for parking. Across the window is gold lettering for ‘Staughton Law Office, Criminal Defense Attorney.'  Hardly distinguishable from the half a dozen other law offices on the same street.

Jack spots them as they drive by, waiting not far from the office. He meets them as they walk up the sidewalk, stopping Gabe to straighten his tie. Jesse grins at the scene, earning a glare from Gabe. Apparently satisfied with his handiwork, Jack lets the tie go, and together the three of them enter the office.

Pushing open the shuttered glass door reveals a small waiting room, as unremarkable as the outside. Dark paneled wood and leather bound furniture, bland artwork hung on the wall along with the lawyer's many diplomas and certifications. There is no one at the small reception desk, but they can see an open door leading to what appears to be an office just a way down a small hallway. The bell over the door jingles as they enter, from inside comes the creak of a chair.

"Oh, please, come in, take a seat." A surprisingly deep voice calls out. "You must be my 10 o'clock."

If the waiting area was as generic as they come, the man seated at the desk is anything but. He's broadly massive, tiny glasses perched on his nose that seems far too small for his face. A thick, hairy beard covers his jaw, and his dark hair is combed back messily from his forehead. He offers his hand out in greeting, when Jesse shakes it he realizes man's palm dwarfs his own.

The decorations in the lawyer’s personal office are a sharp contrast to the dull waiting room. Every spare inch seems dedicated to an outer space theme, complete with photos of rockets and planets hung all over the walls, while a small planetarium hangs from the ceiling. There’s a signed NASA poster, a tiny display showcasing a slice of moon rock, and on his desk is a half-built replica spaceship tucked to the side. The lawyer gives them a broad grin, and again motions for them to sit and to introduce themselves.

"My name is Winston Staughton. I spoke with Mr.Morrison on the phone the other day about taking this case. It's a pleasure to meet you all."

"Looking forward to working with you, Mr. Staughton." Jesse replies. "Hopin’ that you’ll be able to help me out here."

"Please, call me Winston." He says, adjusting his glasses, tiny in his large fingers. "I am very interested in your case. Shall we get started?"

Three hours later and Jesse is more than ready to bash his head against the wall in a vain effort to just end it all. Winston had done his research, down to the last minute, painstaking detail, and with each folder of paperwork he produces Jesse is pretty sure he can physically feel his chances at not ending up in prison diminish. Seeing his entire life story laid out mistake by stupid mistake makes him want to wallow in shame as if feeling remorse alone could make up for everything he had done. Winston had even found reports of his goddamned grade school classes, borders marked with his multitude of absences and failing grades, and the lengthy history of disciplinary action across no fewer than seven school districts before he dropped out at 16.

"Alright,”  Winston says, finger pecking into his small laptop. "Your profile shows the lack of stability in foster homes, the DCS involvement across most of your childhood, and your history in juvenile court."

"Woo." He says flatly, slumped over in his seat with his face buried in his palms. "So they'll see I was a shithead from day fucking one."

Winston tuts. "Don't think of it like that. We're trying to show you as a victim of circumstance here."

Gabe growls, shoulders hunched and tight. "Circumstance? He had a shitty childhood, sure, but how the hell is that gonna keep him outta prison?"

"Jesse has worked very hard to turn his life around, and that's apparent too." Winston says. "The lack of arrests in the last half a decade, the honest job, the on-time payments for the car and apartment, and everyone I've talked to so far has offered to vouch for his character." He hums for a moment, still typing away. "This can be seen as an honest mistake, and perhaps the charges will be dismissed."

"Mistake?" Jack sounds almost as offended as Gabe. "This wasn't a mistake. Jesse's innocent-and he was set up."

"Well" Winston blinks, carefully picking his words.  "It's not up to me to decide if he's innocent or not. We need to have our facts straight for when this does go to trial, and part of that involves building a complete history."

"What about the actual arrest? The bullshit charges they're laying against him?" Gabe snaps, and even as Jesse looks up he sees Jack grab his arm in an ‘easy now' gesture. "What are we doing about that?"

"You say nothing was ever stolen, and you were invited onto the property, correct?" Winston looks at Jesse directly. "What can you show that backs up that statement?"

"I got screenshots of the original post, and the texts back and forth invitin' me."

"Mijo, you _gotta_ come up with something better than a screenshot. I sidelined court cases with the DEA for years, I can take a guess at how the prosecutor's going to argue." Gabe’s arms are crossed, his foot tapping in plain irritation. "Greenie's got a reputation as a drunk, troublemaking party kid already, I doubt his words gonna count for much. If he even agrees to go to bat for you. Screenshots don't mean shit, it'll be easy enough to say that was your in for robbing someone, same with the texts. I can already see the argument being made that you were using the ad as bait till someone worth robbing bit. There are witnesses at the party that have you there, and they're almost guaranteed to have security video of you running and jumping the fence. All the dad's gotta say is you stole cash or something else small enough to hide on your person, and boom, done and done. With your record, it'll be hard to argue that it was a misunderstanding, let alone false accusation."

Winston nods slowly."Unfortunately, Mr. Reyes is right. There isn't proof of a setup from this alone, and use of unreasonable force is always hard to argue for-"

"Security tapes." Jack interrupts, head snapping up. "Gabe, the kitchen cameras. You know how you've been bugging me for months now to set them up?"

The other two look at him. Jesse had heard the idea tossed around, but it had always been one of those things on the restaurant’s rather lengthy to-do list.

"I finally put them up right before we left for Indiana. At least I made sure they turned on, and I'm pretty sure I had it recording right." Jack slides back his glasses so they rest on his head. "I'll check it tonight for sure, Sombra actually helped me install it and she's on shift today. It's just two little dash cams for the inside kitchen exits. We always had real CCTV for the outside but it's not like we don't have anyone working for us that I don't trust so I never felt the need-

Gabe interrupts the apologetic spiel. "Jack, did I ever tell you that you're perfect?"

"Yes, but usually it's sarcasm."  He smiles, "Maybe it'll show what we need."

"That's good too. If you can please send me a copy. Off the record, I would sternly advise you to create more than one backup, as I'll have to submit the recording to the discovery." Winston stretches, the chairs creak under his weight. "I will also make a trip to the arresting precinct station as well, just to double check all the documents. Any mistake or breach of protocol will only strengthen your case."

Scratching at his beard, Jesse leans back in the chair. "Yeah, to be honest intake was strange. I never got a phonecall or saw the prison doc or nothing. Just dragged me off to the far corner and I sat there for a good, shit, six hours or so before I even saw another officer."

That makes Winston finally stop typing, and he sits up to peer closer at Jesse. "That's...odd...are you sure? In my papers, it has you out on an appearance ticket, and that doesn't happen unless you're officially processed."

Jesse glances down at the fading bruises on his wrists. "I was kinda dazed from being tazed and shit, but I'm sure. I sat in cuffs until I was told I had been bailed out."

Winston curls a hand under his chin, attention on the most current report. "If the procedure was ignored, that...that does indicate intent. Have you considered a counter suit?"

"No." Jesse shifts in his chair. "Can't say that I have."

"I suggest you give it some serious thought then, Mr.McCree. If you have any records of medical attention that you needed after your arrest, please forward them to me."

"I didn't go somewhere official, unfortunately. Had a friend swing by."

Winston taps away at his keyboard, presumably noting that down. "in that case I would like to speak to them, if possible, but we can discuss that later. This is a good starting place." He starts stacking his folders, expression thoughtful. "I'll let you know if anything else comes up. Since you've already posted bail and retained an attorney, your arraignment has been delayed until next week. I'll meet you at the courthouse that day, but please, keep in touch."

* * *

 

It hits Friday afternoon. Jesse finally breaks and calls Hanzo before he can stop himself. It rings, once, twice, three times, before he gets the voicemail. He ends the call without saying anything.

Out of a sick sense of determination more than anything, he pulls up google and starts looking for whatever company Hanzo works for. Gabe had mentioned the company name briefly, and he finds the Shimada name tied to an office in downtown San Diego.

The phone rings only once before it's picked up by a sharp-voiced secretary. When he asks for Hanzo Shimada, the call is transferred. This time a woman's voice answers, her faint accent pegging her as possibly Indian.

"I'm looking to speak to Hanzo Shimada?"

"He is currently in a meeting. Would you like to leave him a message so he can return your call?"

"Ah-sure-"

"May I have your name, please?"

"Ugh, to hell with this." He hangs up, more flustered than before. "Goddamit."

By Saturday afternoon he's slumped once again on his couch, out of leftovers, and the urge for a drink is stronger than he can remember in years. For once he's glad that he can't muster the energy to get out of his house. Buying booze would just be the last thing he needed, that always ended messily. He slips into a restless doze instead and almost misses the ringing of his phone buried underneath his couch cushions.

Loud music assaults his ears, and he holds the phone several inches away.

"Genji?"

"Hey Cowboy! We'll be at your place in about five minutes, so put some pants on and get ready to go!"

"What?" He rubs at his eyes, confused."Go where?"

"The concert! You got the tickets, I got the ride, let's go!"

"I told you I can't go."

"Ssshshhh What?" Genji hisses in a poor imitation of static. "You're breaking up-schsschhh-was that a Yes Genji, I'm ready to party?  Scccchhhhhh Ok-we'll be there in-scchhhhhhh four minutes -sssshchhhhhh-"

The call ends, and Jesse groans. Hopefully he has clean laundry somewhere.

 

* * *

 

Hanzo stares at the email, his cursor sitting blinking in the reply. He doesn't have the focus to think of what to type, and his patience is utterly gone.

It's the same thing, day in day out. Find the nice words to flatter the representative in this department. Point out flaws in this account without hurting the ego of the owner. Call for sales of this stock and buying of another, while keeping the  shareholders happy.

So much work and all of it is meaningless.

His father hasn't seen him in person since that day. The only sign he was still watching was the tiny section from the police blotter sent to his desk, only a few lines and a picture about Jesse's arrest on Tuesday night.

He had paid Jesse's bail out of a personal account, one of many he'd created years ago as a ‘just in case.' Loyalty to his family and duties was one thing, but one didn't grow up groomed to head an empire like this without learning to cover his tracks along the way. He was sure his father didn't know about it.

But he had been wrong before.

Half a dozen texts from Jesse sit unopened on his phone, another guilty thought eating away at the back of his mind.

After he fixes this mess. Then he can apologize completely, and they will talk. The man deserves nothing less.

Rubbing at his eyes, he stares at the screen in front of him. His coffee has long since cooled, forgotten at his side, piles of reports and memos covering his desk. He was alone in his office, it was a Saturday evening and even those who were willing to sacrifice their weekends had long since left.

It was only him, alone. For no reason besides that was what was expected of him.

Empty gestures.

The one bright side for the week was that Genji's texts had been infrequent, but coherent, which was a huge improvement over normal. And Genji had agreed to help, no hesitation, when he called him. That was different, and he was glad.

Speak of the devil, his phone buzzes. It takes him longer than he likes to admit to decipher the characters.

_Yo, you going tonight?_

Another ping and follow up message.

_I got cowboy with me ;P_

The attached image shows Genji making an obscene gesture at the camera from the passenger seat of someone's sports car, eyes lined in a garish orange.  Three people are crammed in the tiny back seat, two that have to be friends of Genji's based on fashion taste alone, while Jesse seems smushed to the window, right hand pressing his hat to his head and left holding onto the door handle with a white-knuckled death grip. Genji's captioned the picture with the speedometer reading, and he knows for a fact that it's well above any posted limit in the city.

The fucking concert, he'd forgotten entirely. Looking at the picture again, he glowers, typing back.

_Don't speed, idiot._

Genji's response is almost immediate.

_I'm not driving, dumbass. Now are you going or not?_

He stares at the picture. Jesse was there.

He could apologize, face to face. Over text felt empty, and the thought of doing over the phone seemed disingenuous. And he had invited the man himself, it would be rude to not attend.  Standing, he shuts down his computer and stretches, typing once more to his brother.

_Yes. And tell the driver to slow down._

Hanzo gets there a little after the opening act is finished. People are milling in the hall, lines thick around the food vendors. The smell of overpriced alcohol sours the air, mingling with the plastic scent of nachos and bad pizza.

He pushes through the line more forcefully he intended, finally freeing himself from the crowd when he finds the stairs to the second floor. There aren't as many people here, and Hanzo tugs his jacket into some semblance of order before heading towards the seat number listed on the ticket.

They're box seats,  close to the stage, though he shouldn't be surprised considering what Genji had paid.  Making his way down the stairs, it's easy enough to spot Genji's signature hair first, his brother all but hanging off the railing with a drink in hand, decked in a shade of orange to match the eyeliner, something that should be against the laws of nature. Someone else equally outrageously dressed has a hand around his shoulder, and still, other people sit with their phones out, though he's not sure what they're taking video of as the stage is currently empty.

Even as he watches, a hand reaches out and haul his brother back from the rail. Genji lands on the lap of a friend and downs what's left of his drink, cheering loudly as the lights dim across the stadium.

It takes him a little bit longer to find Jesse. He's seated further away, almost in the back, next to an empty seat. His ridiculous hat from Thanksgiving is tilted back on his head and facing the stage. Even as Hanzo eyes the man's silhouette,  Jesse turns and spots him, waving enthusiastically. Motioning him over to come and sit in the empty seat next to him.

This was a mistake. This whole thing was a mistake. What the hell was he thinking? Genji was right, this was his fault and Jesse had every right to be angry with him.

The one thing Hanzo hated, more than anything else in his life, was the feeling like a failure. Perfection had always been demanded of him, asking for help, a sign of weakness.  He knows he has utterly failed the man before him-through Hanzo’s mistakes Jesse was arrested, and through Hanzo’s actions, the other man was facing charges in a court of law.

No one wants to hear excuses and apologies, they only want results. Not in business, and certainly not in matters that involve possible jail time. 

Hanzo steps back into the hall, only making it a few faltering steps before he slides down, back against the wall, sitting.

Genji was right, he was spineless. Every bit of control he worked so hard for was slipping away, and he couldn't figure out how to apologize to the first person who had truly deserved it.

Heavy footsteps stop in front of him.

"Hanzo?" Someone taps his shoulder. "Hey, you ok?"

He looks up, then blinks to clear his eyes. Standing in front of him is none other than Jesse, looming over, a broad profile in the low light.

"Didn't want to come sit down? The seats are fantastic!" The man crouches so he's kneeling.

Hanzo can't seem to find the words to answer.

Jesse's expression turns concerned. "Long day?"

He finally gets his tongue unstuck from the roof his mouth. "No. Yes. Long week." He drags a palm over his face. "Everything's a mess, and it's my fault. My sincerest apologies."

To his surprise, Jesse laughs before joining him in sitting against the wall. "You can't just get the police to drop the charges, can you?"

"I'm trying, believe me." A wave of guilt washes over him. "I can usually reason with my father that things such as this are a waste of time and resources, but he's also incredibly stubborn. I won't let you go to prison, I promise."

"Must be a family trait." The other man uncaps his water bottle and takes a long swig, his adam's apple bobbing in the dim light of the hall. "You thirsty?"  

"Uh.." Hanzo falters.  Jesse's apparent nonchalance about his ordeal and his casual acceptance of Hanzo's assurance leaves him utterly confused. "I.."

"I ain't sick or nothing."

"Oh, yes. Thank you." He takes the bottle, but instead of drinking, he concentrates on the water inside, swishing it back and forth. Jesse doesn't seem to mind the lull in the conversation, but Hanzo still feels as if he needs to say more. "I will figure something out."

"I believe you." Jesse emits a soft huff of a breath. "Have to say I sure am sorry I got off on the wrong foot with your family."

"I'm not." Hanzo shakes his head, his own fierceness surprising him. "Though I don't understand how you are so calm about all this. Anyone else would be furious with how ineptly I handled this."

"I'm not gonna be mad at you for your dad being a real piece of work."  Jesse says with an audible shrug. "I'd be lying if I didn't tell you I've been looking to talk to you."

"I know." He says softly. "I shouldn't have avoided you. I apologize for that as well."

"It's okay, promise. "Jesse nudges him with his knee, causing Hanzo to give him another glance. "I just wanna know the whole picture. Gets a guy a little anxious when he's running blind. ‘Preciate the apology though, and if it helps I wasn't ever upset with you."

The other man's warm assurance assuages the knot in his stomach, blooming warmth taking it place. He cannot recall anyone else who has ever been so patient and overtly kind to him, not since he was a small child.

He lets himself finally smile back. "Has anyone ever told you that you are far too forgiving?"

"Would you believe me if I said yes?"

"You should go back and enjoy the show." Hanzo's expression drops, and he leans his head against the wall. "I came to apologize, not ruin this night for you as well."

"Looked liked you could use some company." Jesse shifts, stretching his legs out in front of him. "‘Sides, Genji's friends are a little raunchy for my taste. Got offered a blunt, a threesome, and shrooms, just in the first five minutes after they picked me up. Think I wore myself out saying ‘no, thanks' on the ride over."

"Please, don't elaborate. I have a hard enough time dealing with Genji without knowing all the sordid details."

"You betcha." Jesse shakes his head. "I think they were kidding, anyway. Mostly. Glad you came, I sure as hell wasn't planning on going out but Genji is convincing when he wants to be. And by convincing I mean he literally dragged me out of my house and wouldn't take no for an answer."

Hanzo snorts at that, despite himself. "That sounds accurate. When we were little, Genji was always the one who was always getting into messes. Climbing on things he wasn't supposed to, running off in stores, bringing animals home…I'm pretty sure his first words were ‘Genji, No!' because that's what my father was always saying when we were with him."

Unbidden, Hanzo recalls a memory of Genji, perhaps three years old, peering into a bird's nest he found in a bush at one of their father's houses, before excitedly running off to show their father. His father kneeling by Genji's side, and Genji watching wide-eyed as their father explained that they should leave the baby birds alone, but if they sat quietly long enough, they could see the parents feed them. Both of them sitting on their father's lap in the grass, several feet away, his arms around them. Genji clapping excitedly when the parent bird fluttered into the bush to be greeted by a chorus of chirps.

A lifetime ago, when things had been simple.

"I didn't have any siblings growing up, but after I moved in with Gabe and met Ana, me and Pharah got close enough that I kinda consider her my lil' sister." Jesse's hand goes to his hat again, pushing it back on his head. "Except I was the one gettin' into stupid shit while she watched. I'd say she was the voice of reason but I think she looked up to me too much to figure when I was bein' dumb. Once I realized how much I was rubbing off on her I made sure to stay away from anythin' really sketchy, otherwise, her mama would have buried me six feet under."

Hanzo doesn’t answer, staring morosely at the wall. Jesse had found family as he grew older. His own seemed to have drifted apart.

"Han,” Jesse’s turned toward him. “Do you want to get out of here?"

"You want to leave?" The questions catches him off guard.  "Right now? What about the concert?"

"Not saying this wasn't a treat, but no offense, I don't really want to hang with your brother's crowd right now, plus I'm way too keyed up too even really enjoy this." Jesse leans over, tilting his head in Hanzo's direction. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but ya seem outta sorts yourself. So how ‘bout we go find a bite to eat,  one that ain't overpriced as shit venue food?"

"That sounds wonderful." Hanzo admits, suddenly very aware of just how hungry he is. "Do you have a place in mind?"

"Somethin' cheap and good." Jesse brushes his knees off as he stands, then turns to offer a helping hand. "Might have an idea or two."

Hanzo accepts the help, letting the other man help him to his feet. His grip is strong, his palm calloused, his hold steady, almost reassuring.

"You lead, cowboy. I'll follow."

 

* * *

 

Exiting the darkened hallways out to the lit parking lot he glances at Jesse once more. Just to check that the other man wasn't regretting leaving the concert early.

A huge, blotchy bruise mars the right side of Jesse's face, stemming from around his eye. With sinking apprehension, Hanzo realizes he knows exactly how the other man was injured, and he can't stop the soft gasp that escapes past his lips.

"Oh-" Jesse's eyebrows quirk in surprise, seeing where Hanzo's focus is. He places his palm over the bruise as if he's embarrassed, steps wavering.  "Heh, they just got a lil' rough with me. It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Hanzo reaches out, meaning to pry the other man's hand away so he can get a better look. "If it's nothing why are you hiding it?"

Jesse steps back, still covering his eye. "I mean it, this is a love tap. Same cop almost broke my collarbone once, we're practically friends at this point!"

Hanzo gives him a disbelieving look. "How can you even say that? You look like you were beaten!"

"I'm fine, I swear! Look, don't worry your pretty little head over me. It's way better already. Promise!"

"Let me see." Hanzo growls. "How badly were you hurt?"

"It's not as awful as it looks, I swear."

"Please, let me see."

Hesitantly Jesse lowers his hand, and Hanzo steps closer to examine the injury. Jesse's right eye is a puffy half squint, yellow-purple bruising fading down his cheekbone. Underneath the eye itself is much darker, almost black, and even the bridge of his nose shows discoloration from the injury.

"I am so sorry-" Hanzo finds himself tracing his fingers over the edges of the bruise, and Jesse flinches, waving his hand away.

"Already said it ain't your fault." The man is flushing now and reaches up to tug his hat low enough to obscure his face. "Just give me a heads up next time your dad wants to send the police after me so I can get a headstart."

"Are you serious?" Hanzo's brows furrow and he shakes his head. "How are you not upset with me right now? How do you not blame me for this? How?"

"Cuz it ain't your fault, Hanzo." Jesse's voice drops to a tone that Hanzo recognizes as absolutely sincere. " And I'll keep saying that till you get it. The cop who did this has some longstanding beef with me, and hell, I gotta record anyway. Somethin' like this was bound to happen sooner or later. Stop trying to shoulder the blame for everything. Sometimes things are outta your control."

Jesse's words give him pause, and Hanzo sighs. "I suppose to a certain extent, you are correct. I am paying for dinner, though."

"Sure thing." Jesse nods, the reassuring smile back in place. "Won't say no to that."

They settle on a little hole in the wall pho place, somewhere Jesse had heard recommended by a friend of a friend. Plastic tables, dingy linoleum floor, and a neon window light make Hanzo question his source of information, but when the steaming bowls of broth are brought out of the kitchen his mouth waters in anticipation.

"Jamison was right, this is great," Jesse says right after swallowing down a mouthful of noodles and beef. "Needs some sriracha, though. Hand that over."

Hanzo holds the bottle out across the table. Their fingers brush as Jesse grabs it, just enough that Hanzo can’t help but jolt in surprise at the touch.

"Thanks." Jesse grins, then upends the rest of the bottle into the bowl.

Hanzo snorts, covering his smirk with his palm. "Some?"

"Yep. Some." Jesse samples the broth again, humming in satisfaction. "Now it's perfect."

Hanzo finds himself agreeing. He flavors his own meal with a touch of hoisin, adding basil and onions as well. The taste is flavorful, and the meat is delicious.

Just like the first night he spent in Jesse's company, the man proves exceedingly easy to talk with. Before he realizes it, their dinner is long gone, their dishes cleared by the lone waitress, and the check has been set on the end of their table. Hanzo doesn't even notice it at first, enraptured by watching Jesse speak.

He's extraordinarily expressive.  His eyes crinkle when he laughs, his eyebrows furrow when he puzzles over something,  his lips twitch with every word as if he's constantly hiding a smile.  And his eyes, dark but full of humor, meeting his own gaze across-

"Han?"

Hanzo starts, snapping himself out of his stupor and with sinking trepidation realizes he had been staring like a vapid fool for several moments. His face burns, and he fumbles for an explanation.

"I, uh, -"

"S'okay, you seem pretty tired. Asked ya if you can hand me the check so we can get going, looks like they're ready to close."

With a start he looks around, seeing that the lone waitress is just finishing placing the unoccupied chairs upside down on the tables, and the neon open sign is off. He flushes again, this time out of embarrassment.

"You are talented at making me lose track of time." He frowns and takes the check to slip his card inside. "And I told you this was my treat."

"Guilty as charged." Jesse winks. "Thought you mighta forgot. Let me cover the tip at least, figure make it a lil' fairer. I’ll throw you some gas money for my ride home, or I can get an uber if you don't wanna drive that far."

"Nonsense.” Hanzo gives the other man a smirk, quirking an eyebrow. “ I have to go to the office for a few hours tomorrow anyway and we're thirty minutes away from my home."

Jesse cocks his head to the side, eyes narrowed. "Yeah?"

"I already intruded on your home so let me repay the favor. I have a guest room, and it's no trouble, I assure you."

“Well, shit.” Jesse grins widely. “Works for me.”

* * *

 

"Who is Mr. Reyes to you?"

Hanzo asks out of curiosity when Jesse is in the midst of a tale about a hot pepper eating contest gone horribly wrong. The other man pauses, lower his glass to rest against the table, his face thoughtful.

They're settled on Hanzo’s couch, Jesse sipping on a soda while Hanzo made himself a cocktail. He'd assumed that the other man would have gone straight to bed, judging by the bags under his eyes and Jesse’s own admission of poor sleep. He had been pleasantly surprised when they'd both taken a seat and continued chatting, slipping right back into the easy conversation from before.

"I told you Gabe saved my life."

Hanzo nods and waits for him to continue. Jesse pauses, worrying the edge of his lip with his teeth, before he takes a deep breath and starts to speak.

"I never knew my bio dad, and my mom lost custody of me before I turned four. I ended up bouncing ‘round foster homes, some were okay, some were hell. Pretty typical for most kids in the system, but I was an angry little shit and acted out. Ended up with a reputation as troubled."

A faint blush colors Jesse's cheeks, he draws his eyebrows together and crosses his arms over his chest. "I got into a lotta fights, ended up getting pulled out or expelled from basically every school I went to. I would run away from where ever I was living for days on end. Once lived out of a friend's garage for four months before the state found me again. It was one of those times where I was a runaway that I started to fall in with the wrong crowd. It's easy to do when you feel like no one cares about you anyway, you're looking for anything to give you control."

"Long story short, I was going nowhere fast, especially since I was bummin' it with some pretty rough characters. Mugged a few people, broke into houses, got arrested the first time at 15, got this tattoo," He points to the crude skull, still half hidden by his shirt sleeve, "from another kid 'round that time too. Stupid delinquent shit, and no surprise to anyone when I was sent to juvie.  Saw and participated in some bad fights. Got my nose broken, ribs cracked,  and got stabbed in the leg with a pen. You learn to fight back, and fight back hard."

He rubs at his jeans, staring down at the coffee table. "I was pretty fucked in the head. I had gotten into drugs at that point in my life as well, and not light shit either."

Hanzo stays quiet, listening intently. Part of Jesse’s history he had gleaned from the criminal records, but it was another thing entirely to hear it from the man himself. He sees the other man glance his direction, and tries to give him an encouraging nod back.

"I was seventeen when I met Gabe. I was just about ready to age out of foster care, not that I had seen my current foster parent in months anyway. Gabe was an agent with the DEA at the time, and part of the team that cracked down on the place I was living in, this rundown row house that had way too many people crashing in it. One of the owners was a pretty big name dealer, part of a gang, the whole nine yards, and I was playing at being a big shot myself and wanted to be in the thick of it.

Of course being the idiot I am I bought a stolen gun off of someone, and of course I was full of spit and fire and maybe a few other illicit substances, and of course, I tried to fight tooth and nail when they went to cuff me. Gabe had to throw me through a wall so I'd stop trying to strangle him. I was maybe ninety-five pounds soaking wet, hadn't eaten a real meal since who knows when, and decided that the best course of action to waking up off a binge with four dudes in swat gear shining high powered spotlights in my face was to jump at ‘em."

He says it so wryly that Hanzo laughs, and is rewarded with Jesse's grin.

"That seems positively suicidal."

"You think? Cuz I sure as hell wasn't, I was just mad." Jesse gives his own sad laugh, another shake of his head. "Ended up right on the borderline of being charged as an adult, with possession of illegal drugs, intent to traffic, illegal firearms, all that shit, with not a single person in the world who cared about me. For some reason, to this day I don't know why, Gabe saw all that and decided he was going to foster me. I was sitting in lockup again when he came in and told me."

"You must have been extremely grateful."

"Hah-" Jesse snorts, shaking his head, "Hell no I wasn't! I think my exact words to him were ‘Go fuck yourself with your shotgun, your narco pig.'"

"Really?" Hanzo shift to lean his chin into his hand. Jesse had always seemed so calm,  it's hard to reconcile the image he was painting.

"Yup." Jesse leans back into the couch, hands coming to rest behind his head. "He took me in any way. I made his life an absolute hell. He spoke for me in court, got the judge to go easy on me, fucking went out of his way to make sure I was treated as well as could be. What did I do in return?  Every day for weeks I tried to fight him or make a run for it. Every time he'd go and find me, and sit with me till I agreed to go back home. And he never, not once, yelled at me or raised a hand or nothing.”

“He taught me how to play music when I couldn't sleep. Sat with me when I got the shakes real bad after coming down the last time. Shit, the guy taught me how to shave." He pauses, absentmindedly rubbing at his uninjured eye. "I owe just about everything to him."

"I turned eighteen about three months after he took me in. He woke me up round mid-morning, told me to go downstairs whenever I was ready. I expected to see all my paperwork together and for him to tell me it was time to get out, have a nice life. He'd already done more for me in those three months than anyone had ever done for me before, so figured it was time for me to get. I started shoving things into my pillowcase, and made sure to shower because I thought I was gonna be on the streets that night. Went downstairs with that pillowcase in my hand, and he was waiting for me at the bottom. Probably thought I was nuts, now that I think about it."

He hears a small break in the other man’s voice. Jesse is staring down again, and he blinks rapidly before continuing.  

"Gabe pointed at the dining room and said ‘Happy Birthday.' Had a cake and everything, banners, stupid little party hats. Jack was there, and Ana, and even Pharah. They had presents for me, too.” Jesse finally looks up, a faint sheen in his eyes. “I cried. I cried so damn hard, I couldn't even blow out the goddamned candles. Gabe told me I was welcome to stay with him, as long as I wanted to, and was willing to keep trying, y'know, cuz I was still going through shit."

Jesse glances his way, yet Hanzo fumbles for the sympathetic words he wants to say.

"You saw my record,  though. It wasn't a flip of a switch and I turned into a decent person. I fucked up again and again. Dropped the hard shit but started drinking too much. Had trouble finding a job, had trouble keeping one.  A lotta false starts, but Gabe stuck by me. Jack and Ana too, all like this weird extended family."

Jesse sighs, hands spread again. "Shit, sorry, didn't mean to lay it all bare like that. Point being is I fucked up my life, one stupid mistake after another, and it's no surprise that I deserve this shit anyway."

"Jesse." Hanzo finally reaches out, placing a hand on his arm. "Please, stop saying that."

"But-"

Hanzo’s grip tightens as he finally finds the words he’s been searching for. "Listen to me. What happened to you isn't right, nor is it fair, and above all, you do not deserve to be treated like that. You have proven to be one of the most caring and honest people I have ever met."

"Honest, huh?" Jesse shivers. "Yeah, honestly scared shitless- they're gonna drag me through the mud and I'm terrified of any cops finding me and I can't sleep a goddamned wink and I don't think I deal can with this-

Hanzo shifts so that he has both Jesse’s hands in his own. There is only inches between them.

"I swear to you, I will do everything I can to help you."

He hopes the other man can hear the sincerity in his words. Jesse lifts his eyes to met Hanzo's own, and the other man's expression is flickering between worry and something else entirely. Underneath his fingertips, Jesse’s pulse is erratic.

Hanzo leans in, now close enough that he can see flecks of light reflected in Jesse’s brown eyes. He’s not sure what is compelling him forward, only that it feels right, that clearly, Jesse needs to believe he is a better man than he thinks. The other man’s eyes flick downward, and the thought of-

Someone slams a door down below. As if he's been burned, Jesse jumps back and pushes himself to the other side of the couch, sitting upright and breathing heavy.

Hanzo sighs, suddenly frustrated. "That-"

A burst of laughter from the hall and the clatter of something-probably Hanzo's decorative potted plant- being knocked over makes him certain, and he frowns.

"-Would be Genji. Drunk, again, from the sound of it."

Hanzo glances again at the man now seated as far away as physically possible on his couch,  looking anywhere else but back at him. Whatever magnetism that had sprung between them was gone, but for a moment he imagines he can still feel the pull, a sinful little voice telling him that _kissing_ someone having an emotional breakdown was most definitely the appropriate response.

Just from where that intrusive little thought came from, he's not sure, but he quashes it to the back of his brain with vehemence. Jesse has tugged his hat down over his face again, and even as he watches he seems incapable of keeping his hands still, opting the worry at the edge of his shirt.

"Are you alright?" He asks, again, resisting the urge to still Jesse's restless fingers. _What is wrong with me?_

"Who-me? I'm great!" Jesse faces him again with a sheepish smile, a faint blush coloring his face. "Sure sounds like a herd of elephants down there. You sure that’s him?”

In answer, Genji himself clatters up the stairs with hair disheveled and a stagger in his steps. He pauses in the entrance of the living room, double-taking at Jesse's presence before focusing on his brother instead.

"Hanzooo." He whines, screwing his face into a pout. "I had to call an uber here. Where did you guys go?"

"Sorry, I had a killer headache and the noise was making it worse. We went out to get a bite." Jesse says, shrugging apologetically.

"You could've invited me." Genji threads his way over to the couch and flops down dramatically, leaning his head on Jesse’s shoulder and hiking his feet up to rest in his brother's lap.  "I've been to more concerts than I can remember and I’m always up for food, especially if Hanzo’s paying. Whaddya watching?"

"Christ, you reek." The strong steel of cheap beer hits Jesse’s nose, face scrunching in response.  Truth be told he had no idea what was currently on the screen, so absorbed in spilling his life story to a probably very bored Hanzo he had practically forgotten the TV was even on.

"I believe it's a rerun of ‘ _Say Yes to the Dress.'_ Hanzo answers while shoving Genji's feet to the floor. "Feel free to change it."

Genji sticks his tongue out at his brother before floundering for the remote. He idly flips through what feels like dozens of channels, Hanzo growing visibly irritated. Jesse's exhaustion creeps up on him, without the distraction of talking to hold it at bay, and he lets loose a jaw-cracking yawn.

"I think I'm gonna hit the hay if you two don't mind." He shifts, and thankfully Genji sits up to let him free from his seat. "You said there's a place to crash?"

"I have a guest bed you can use, just down the hall." Hanzo stands too, ignoring the wide eye questioning look his younger brother is now giving them both. "I'll show you."

It's only a few doors down a short hallway. Hanzo points out the bathroom in suite and waving away his thanks before he steps back into the hall.

"Sure you don't need a hand?" Jesse asks, stalling for a few more moments. From the couch Genji can be heard saying Hanzo’s name, along with something about popcorn and filling him in.

Hanzo rolls his eyes."No, it'll be alright. He's actually pretty sober on the Genji scale. Get some rest and I'll bring you home in the morning. "

"Right then." Jesse rest his hand on the doorknob, still feeling as if something is being left unsaid.  "If you need me…" he finishes with a shrug, and Hanzo gives him another small smile.

"I won't hesitate to ask. Goodnight,  Jesse."

"Night." With that goodbye he finally shuts the door.

 

* * *

 

As soon as he hears Hanzo's footsteps leave, he dials the first person who comes to mind for help.

"Hullo?" She answers, her voice foggy with sleep. "Jess?"

"Pharah," he hisses. " _Help me._ "

"What's going on?" Her tone immediately changes, and in the background rustling can be heard. "Where are you? Do you need a ride? What happened?"

He keeps talking, cutting her off. "So y'know how all this shit's happening, and I'm kinda stressed, so I'm out with Hanzo and it was great, and we went back to his house except I had a little freakout on his couch-"

"Who's couch? Hanzo's couch?"

"Yeah, and anyway he reached over and held my hands and sat with me, I thought we were gonna kiss and everything. That's pretty ...I don't know, like a couple thing, right?"

"What." The sound of a door slamming shut punctuates her flat statement.

"I'm not reading too much into this, am I? Holding someone's hand is a date thing, right? But he said he wasn't interested in dating or anything so I'm confused as hell now. Is hand-holding normal friend thing, or is it not?"

Her answer is a groan of frustration. "Jesus fucking christ, Jesse."

"I know, I didn't think I had a snowflake's chance in hell, but he's making me reconsider. He's fucking adorable, you have no idea."

"When you call me in the middle of the goddamned night, saying ‘I need help' I'm going to think you're dying, not having a fucking guy problem. I was halfway to my car in my fucking PJ's!"

"Sorry. But also, what do I do?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?"

"Look, if it was you freaking out on Angela's couch and she reached over and held hands with you and looked you in the eye like she was going to kiss it better, you'd think it was cuz she was into you, right?"

"I guess, but that's a bad example because I am this close to paying her to sit on my face."

"So I ain't reading too much into it, then." He hums, pacing the room. This man was going to be the death of him.  "What do I do now?"

"I dunno, Jess, I am not a dating genius here either, hence the _"I will pay her"_ part of my last statement."

"Fareeha!"

She sighs and he can picture her rolling her eyes. "Look, why not in the morning, you ask him for coffee or something. Hang out with him. Make sure you're not experiencing some weird form of Stockholm syndrome ‘cuz he bailed you out or whatever the fuck is going on."

"Coffee. I can do that."

"Or I suppose you could wait till he shows up in court to testify about what a colossal fucking turd you are. It's two a.m!"

He glances over at the nightstand where a small alarm clock displays the time and realizes she right, it was far later than he thought. That means he'd spend almost half the night alone, with Hanzo and he'd enjoyed every single second.

Another though seizes him. "What if he doesn't like coffee?"

"Good night, Jesse."

"Pharah wait! What if it's not-"

The line is dead.

With a frustrated whine deep in his chest he turns and finally takes in the room he’s spending the night in.

Like the rest of Hanzo’s house, it’s fucking perfect. Tile floor, large curtained window, antique and matching furniture. Squeezing his eyes shut, he counts to ten, and when he opens them he’s still standing in a room that could easily fit in a five star hotel, owned by the most gorgeous and attentive man he has ever met with a father who hated his guts. He is absolutely digging himself a grave, happily slinging complicated little shovelfuls of feelings and intent with every passing moment.

Dragging a palm over his face he falls into the bed, hoping sleep will finally come easy for him.

The guest bed turns out to be the comfiest thing he has ever touched. Thick, heavy comforters, fluffed pillows, and it even smells like heaven. He's half convinced he died and dreamed it up, as he sinks into the best slumber he's had in literally years.

It's a slight tug at his foot that wakes him, and he shifts, still determined to enjoy every possible second of sleep he can. For a moment, the tugging stops, only to return with renewed intensity. It feels like something is stuck on his sock...or maybe something is taking his sock?

With a reluctant groan he rolls himself sitting, just as whatever it is gives a final pull- and hits the floor with a small thump. Hauling himself to the edge of the bed, he sees the mostly white thing dart across the floor, taking his sock with it-a weasel?

_Who the hell has a pet weasel?_

He rubs at his eyes, mostly sure he's dreaming.

_It's a ferret, dumbass. Not a weasel. They don't eat socks._

Satisfied with that thought, he lays back down, sleep welcoming him back to the fold.

_Ferrets don't eat sock either, stupid._

He sits up with a start, throwing the covers back and his feet hit the floor with a thump. It's definitely a ferret, and even as his now more than half awake brain catches up to the reality of the situation, the creature slips through the crack under the door, taking his sock with it before he can take more than three steps across the room.

He glowers at the door, his one sockless foot uncomfortably cold against the tile. It's still early, too early to leave the best sleep he's ever had.  The ferret can have his stupid sock. With his toe, he pulls the remaining sock off, and vaguely remembers Hanzo saying something about a "guest bathroom" and "shower."

There's a slightly ajar door opposite the bed, pushing it open reveals a rich marble vanity, more tile flooring, a hopefully standard toilet and most importantly, a glass-encased shower with a deluxe looking control knob, large shower head and an array of nozzles on the wall.

He gives a low whistle of appreciation. Summarily stripping, he's glad that fancy showers don't seem to have any secret to turning the knob on- compared to his own house. Of which the temperature setting seemed to be nut freezing cold, cold, cold, icy hell, lukewarm and satan's armpit.

This fancy shower actually corresponded to the listed settings, and from the first moment he steps inside, it's pure bliss. Steam quickly fills the bathroom, and his heaven on earth shower experience is made complete with luxurious and luscious smelling soap and shampoo, plus about five other different bottles of hygiene products he's never heard of, all stowed on the shelves inside. He tries them all and decides whatever the heck body butter is he needs it in his life, taking the time to smear it all over his chest hair, belly and limbs too, just for the sake of it. Thick, plush towels are folded over the bar, and after almost forty minutes and not one sign of abating hot water, he finally steps out and wraps one around his waist. He takes a second one to rub at his hair till it's dry enough. Opening the medicine cabinet over the sink reveals a toothbrush in a wrapper, toothpaste, a bottle of generic headache medicine and even a hair dryer.

Making use of the toothbrush, he makes a mental note to thank Hanzo for his well-prepared hospitality. He leans over to spit in the sink when a sharp clink at the door draws his attention. Rinsing quickly, he steps out of the bathroom only to see the ass end of what looks like an entirely different ferret -this one is brown-squirming under the bedroom door.  It disappears, only briefly, before poking its head back in and latching onto his belt which has been dragged across the floor , trying to maneuver his buckle so it fits under the door. Even as he stares, with a final tug, the belt disappears from sight.

"Oh _hell_ no."

With quick strides he crosses the space and throws open the door to the hallway, catching sight of the ferret skittering backward, dragging his entire belt with it. He grips his towel,  storming after it.

"Socks are one thing, you varmit, but a man's belt?"

The ferret makes it around a corner, and following, he enters the large living room, attached to a kitchen. He scans the floor, trying to find the critter. It's out of view.

_Tink._

_Tink._

The sound comes from the stairs, and he finally sees it. With every backward hop, the belt clinks on the steps as the little weasel pulls it upward.

He gives chase. Sensing that it will lose it's new prize if caught, the ferret redoubles it's efforts, gaining the top of the stairs before spinning to streak headlong down the hall, belt clattering on the floor.

Huffing, he follows, steps behind, only to miss as it disappears under yet another door, taking his goddamned belt with it.

"Nowhere to hide, you skinny rat-"

He throws open the door and nearly drops his towel.

It's a bedroom. _Hanzo's_ bedroom, and Hanzo is half out of bed, sans shirt, expression bewildered, and McCree gets a sight that he immediately decides to savor till the day he dies of sculpted abs and an eye-catching tattoo that had to cost more than a month of his pay.

Hanzo stares right back at him. "Jesse?"

"Your furry snake." He points lamely, belatedly realizing that ferret has disappeared, most likely under the bed.

"My what?" The other man shifts, tugging the blanket higher.

"Weasel. I mean ferret. Ferrets? Took my things. Belt. And my sock."

"You couldn't have dressed first?"

"I-uh-" He clutches the towel. Why are words so hard right now? "I'm gonna go do that. Sorry."

Hanzo's eyes him, seeming to pick his words carefully. "It's fine. They do that. I'll retrieve your belongings momentarily."

"The ferrets?" He questions dumbly. How could someone even look that cut getting out of bed?

"Yes, little thieves that they are." Hanzo eyebrows are raised, and Jesse gets the sense he's being looked over like a horse for sale. "Now I'd really appreciate if you would put some clothes on before this gets weird."

"Shit. Sorry again." He takes a step back into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him. "Sorry."

Inside the bedroom, alone, Hanzo feels radiating heat starting below his gut and creeping up his torso, his cheeks flushing bright red. Jesse had a chest full of hair, dark over both pectorals, trailing down a soft belly and Hanzo's first thought had been an _obscene_ hope that the towel would just drop.

Genji had hounded him mercilessly after Jesse had gone to sleep, and Hanzo had spent the last of his night denying that he felt anything more than friendship for their guest.

He had been oh so very, very wrong. In the light of the morning, red face buried into his pillow and a scream building in his chest, he finally admits to himself that he wants Jesse in the _worst_ way.

It couldn't possibly work. They were too different. Their lives were going in completely opposite directions, two entirely opposed social circles, and with families that would never, ever accept one another.

For a brief moment, Hanzo almost sets that cold logic aside to finally follow his heart.

Right before he shoves every last heady desire to the back of his mind. Jesse McCree will never, _ever_ , know the extent of his feelings.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> image credit to [Freebooter4Ever](http://freebooter4ever.tumblr.com/post/166029454209/furry-snakes-that-enjoy-collecting-socks-and) WHO IS AMAZING PLEASE GO LOOK AT HER ART
> 
> credit to her also for the second pic ;P [Freebooter4Ever](http://freebooter4ever.tumblr.com/post/166281204894/the-furry-snakes-steal-jesses-belt-buckle-after)


	6. To Save You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how long can Hanzo deny his feelings? Not that long, turns out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO it's a little bit smutty at the beginning. Quick summary if you don't want to read: Hanzo thinks Jesse is hot. He thinks he's really hot. He can't think about anything other than how hot he is. Might as well jerk off so he can stop thinking about it. Oh no, feelings.
> 
> Go to the first page break (starts with: Genji wakes up to the smell of something delicious...) if you want to skip the smut)
> 
> Another shout out to the wonderful amazing [Freebooter4Ever](http://freebooter4ever.tumblr.com/) for both drawing art for the [End](http://freebooter4ever.tumblr.com/post/167281586884/its-over-too-soon-just-as-his-breath-begins-to) of this chapter, but also betaing again. Check her blog, she's an awesome artist and I am utterly spoiled.
> 
> If you wanna see all her fanart for this fic, here's the link for the [tag](http://freebooter4ever.tumblr.com/tagged/revolverwaffle)

Jesse was making breakfast. Hanzo can hear the man puttering around the kitchen, opening cabinet doors, placing things on the stove and soft snatches of him singing as he works. Like he was some sort of bundle of sunshine wrapped in human form, graced with a charming personality, divine cooking ability, and a demeanor that from anyone else would seem fake.

Hanzo hasn't even managed to get out of bed yet. Still flustered from the other man bursting into his room sans clothing, he decidedly ignores his hard on and tries to think of something else. Anything else. Like finance reports. Quarterly earnings. Shareholder meetings. Jesse on his knees under his desk, running his hands up Hanzo's thighs…

Hanzo buries his face into his pillow to muffle his frustrated scream.

A cold shower will help.

He is just lonely. It's not as if he's never slept with anyone before. It's just been a while. A very long while. Jesse is handsome, kind, sweet and genuine. So why wouldn't anyone react to that? It only made sense.  Lack of personal relationships, stress from his job, the feeling of isolation. Of course he would latch onto the first person who wanted to be friends.

Jesse own willingness to date him didn't help either, and for a moment he imagines heading downstairs, wrapping his arms around Jesse's broad back and telling the other man that he has very suddenly changed his mind, could he please come back to his room but without the towel this time so they could celebrate.

Hanzo runs his fingers through his hair and tries harder to ignore how much the idea appeals to him.

Beneath the bed, Mizu and Akisu poke their heads out for a brief moment. Momo isn't with them, the third ferret, but she has always preferred Genji's room. He's sure that all of them have made nice little nests full of pilfered things from around the house, considering that they had to have been out the entire night without anyone watching them.

Sure enough, when he leans down to check underneath the box spring he finds Jesse's missing sock and belt along with several articles of his own clothing-His favored scarf, a few neckties, and his earbuds. The two ferrets retreat more than halfway underneath, eyes glinting in the light from his phone.  He debates trying to chase them out so he could put them back in their cage, but it was across the hall in Genji's guest room, and his brother was probably still asleep.

And Hanzo still has a half-hearted chub rubbing at the band of his boxers, all because he can't help but think about how much he wants to take that belt off Jesse himself. Perhaps he could wrap it around Jesse's wrists, keeping his hat on while Hanzo undos the buttons of Jesse's rugged jeans so they slide to the floor...

A _very_ cold shower. _Right now._

He leaves the ferrets to their hoard. Entering his bathroom he spins the nob as far to the left as it will go, abandoning his boxers to the floor. He steps inside his shower, ice water prickling his skin. Closing his eyes he rests his head on the tiled interior.

He should have kissed him.

No. He doesn't have time for a relationship. Jesse would become bored with him.

Jesse's muscled arms holding him close on the nights the stress became too much.

It would never happen, he really doesn't even know the man. He's projecting his idea of perfection onto someone who already was okay with being friends.

Deep brown eyes, a beautiful voice. Understanding and patient.

God, he was so desperate. Pitiful. All it took was the kindness of one person and now he's ready to abandon all logic and reason for the mere chance that something could possibly happen between them, something that wouldn't end in frustration and heartbreak even though it always did.

The longer he stands the more agitated he becomes. Desire keeps piercing through his gut, every time he thinks the cold has brought a sense of calm a new thought worms its way to the surface.

If Jesse already considered dating him does that mean he faced the same issue?

Did he take his dick in hand and think of Hanzo's mouth?

Hanzo bites back a groan, tempted to bash his forehead against the wall. He's rock hard now, hot need pulsing throughout his body.

Fuck it. He'll just get this out of his system and maybe then he could approach this like a rational adult. Defeated, he starts palming his dick roughly and he settles into a quick rhythm.

It's far too easy to let his imagination take over.

_Jesse shuts the door behind him, eyes locked with his own. He lets the towel fall, exposing dark hair and a hard cock, his desire obvious from the precum beading on the tip.  Crossing the room in quick strides, Jesse climbs into the bed. His weight presses Hanzo down, he leans into a heavy kiss against his mouth. Everything feels hazy and he parts his lips eagerly for more._

_Jesse sits astride him now, each thrust of his hips creating heady friction between them. His hand wraps around Hanzo's cock and he buries his face in Hanzo's neck, teeth and lips worrying his skin as he leaves a mark against his throat._

_Jesse's grip, strong, calloused, stroking him tip to base, once, twice, building pressure and heat, again and again._

With another stifled moan, he cums, dick twitching in hand.

What the _hell_ was he doing? What was _wrong_ with him?

Freezing cold water pelts his body, blindly he reaches out and fumbles for the knob. Jesse was downstairs cooking him breakfast, and Hanzo just masturbated to the thought of the man pleasuring him.

Self-loathing, a familiar ache like lead in his lungs, descends on his mind. All of this was wrong. His want for Jesse, the man's own willingness to overlook the issues Hanzo had created for him, his own family's hand in the matter.

The water slowly warms but does nothing to ease his fraught mind.

* * *

 

 

Genji wakes up to the smell of something delicious wafting up the stairs to his room. He identifies bacon first and coffee second, both reminding him that bad nachos and liquor do not a meal make.

Momo pawing through his blankets might have had something to do with him waking early as well. Reaching out to scritch the ferret's head he yawns again, tempted to go back to sleep. The thought of breakfast is too good to pass up in the end, and Genji admits he is awake for the day.  His ferret ignores him,  continuing to try and bury whatever prize it is deeper in his sheets.

Hanzo hardly ever cooks. Most mornings, as far back as he could recall, it seemed that his brother would wake early, go to the gym, come back, down some coffee and head to work. It had to be cowboy manning the stove and based on his last experience, the cowboy was a very good cook.

"C'mon, let's go." He tells Momo, rolling out of bed in a less than graceful flop.

He picks up Momo and drapes her around his neck. Peering into the cage tucked into the corner of the room he doesn't see either of her sisters. Sucking in a breath, he remembers that he let them out last night before he went to bed and that means they've been crawling around unsupervised since.

_Oops._

Shaking out his blanket to dislodge whatever it is that Momo had been burying, he hops they didn't take too much. Out falls cowboy's wallet, bits of change, crumpled bills, and several different cards- credit card, debit card, insurance card, license, all divested from the wallet's inner pockets. Genji scoops them off his floor and shoves them back inside. From her perch, Momo squirms, her little feet digging into his shirt.

"No." He tells her, tapping her nose. "You can't have these."

Heading to the stairs, he sees Hanzo's door's still shut. Odd, usually his brother was awake by now. He steps close intending to knock, but he realizes he can hear the shower. That must mean his brother was alive and hadn't overworked himself to death yet, so therefore Genji's temporary concern was unwarranted. There were more important things to deal with. Like breakfast.

McCree stands at the stove, singing under his breath while he cooks. Pancakes are stacked on his right, he flips the one he's currently cooking as Genji comes down the stairs. A full plate of bacon sits next to the finished pancakes, and what has to be home fries are crisping away in a skillet.

"Lose something?" Genji says, waving McCree's wallet.

Jesse pulls the newest pancake off the burner before turning to look. "Shit, yeah."

"Here. Momo stole it, sorry."

Taking his wallet Jesse shoves it back into his pants, giving Momo a suspicious look.  "How many goddamn ferrets y'all own? Every time I turn around there's another one."

"Three."

Genji takes a plate out of the cabinet and helps himself to everything that had been prepared, including the coffee that has brewed in the press. He adds a generous helping of Hanzo's fancy vanilla creamer and pulls out the bottle of maple syrup for the pancakes.

Momo's squirming nonstop now, so he sets her down on the floor where she immediately runs to the living room to burrow under the couch. Jesse watches her disappear, then stoops low enough to peer under the cabinets.

Genji laughs. "I promise there's only three."

"I lost a sock and my belt to those little thieves." Jesse frowns and crosses his arms, still holding onto the spatula. "Never woulda guessed you two would have those as pets."

Genji shrugs, dropping into a seat at the counter. "Yeah, another one of my ideas. Hanzo let me keep them here after Dad said they had to go. Too many fancy pens went missing I guess."

"I think I mighta sided with your dad on that argument." Jesse shakes his head. "‘Fraid they're gonna take my hat next."

Genji stuffs a large bite of the syrup doused pancake into his mouth, and just as before they are absolutely delicious. Within moments he's getting up for seconds.

"I thought Hanzo was gonna be down here by now, s'why I started cooking. You don't think he'll mind, right?"Jesse tells him, busy wiping down the stove. "And save some for your brother!"

Genji rolls his eyes, putting back a single pancake. "You probably freaked him out. He doesn't get out much. But we'll see. If he marries you cuz you're the first person who's kissed him in forever then you can make me breakfast every day."

Jesse turns a very bright shade of red. "We didn't-I didn't- I would, but -"

Chewing slowly, Genji arches an eyebrow.

"I don't think he even wants to-Do you think he would? Ahhhhhhh...I'm gonna stop talking now." Slowly Jesse pulls the chair from the island, drops into it and buries his head in his arms. "Fuck."

"So nothing happened between you two?"  

From beside him comes a very tiny ‘No.'

"If it makes you feel better," Genji reaches for the syrup, "Hanzo spent the entire time after you went to bed telling me that he doesn't like you that way at all, and he just wants to be friends, and also that he couldn't even see himself in a relationship anyway."

"How the hell is that supposed to help?"

"He's a bad liar."

"Oh. Really?" Jesse perks up. "Cuz this might be TMI but he's the prettiest thing I have ever seen."

Genji wrinkles his nose. "Yea, keep those thoughts to yourself. Also, FYI, Hanzo does whatever the hell Dad wants and Dad wants little Shimada grandbabies. Get it?"

"So you're saying there's a chance." Jesse taps his fingers on the countertop. "I wonder how he feels about adopting..."

Genji snorts, incredulous. "I feel like you're missing my point."

"Yeah yeah, I'm just kidding anyway." Jesse sighs. "You really think he wouldn't want to date?"

"I don't think he wouldn't _want_ to," He explains, feeling just an ounce of pity for the clearly smitten man. " You're the first person whose company he's liked in literally forever. I just don't think he will do anything that could put him at odds with our father. That's how he is."

* * *

 

 The food is cooling by the time Hanzo finally comes down the stairs with a bag in one hand, Jesse's pilfered belongings in the other. Despite his work attire and calm facade, Genji gets the sense his brother is incredibly flustered. Even more so when he notes how Hanzo makes a beeline for the door, not even making a pretense of saying good morning.

"Howdy!" Jesse smiles brightly anyway, stepping towards Hanzo with a cup and a plate. "Made ya breakfast, and brewed up some of your coffee.."

"No, thank you." Hanzo hardly pauses, just halting long enough to place the sock and belt on the counter behind him.  More telling, he won't even lift his head to meet Jesse's eyes. "Your belongings. Apologies, I really have to run, I misjudged the time I would have. Genji, can you drive him home?"

"What?" Genji protests, more out of irritation than actual inconvenience. "Why? The office is close enough."

"Genji, please." Hanzo has already made it halfway out the door. "I don't have time today. And make sure you catch the ferrets!"

"Oh, I get it," Genji smirks. _"Okubyoumono."_

That earns him a glare, but it's not enough to stop his brother from heading out. From inside they can hear the car door slam.

"Guess you can eat the rest of those pancakes now." Jesse's shoulders slump in clear disappointment. "Figures he don't like coffee."

"I warned you. He doesn't do relationships." Genji shakes his head, even as he goes to take the last of the pancakes.

His brother was unbelievably dense at times. Who wouldn't want a delicious, homemade breakfast? Hanzo was missing out.

"Yeah, I can see that. Darn, and I got my hopes up for nothing." Jesse digs for his phone, all but pouting. "You good with driving me home? I can find a ride if it's a problem."

"Nah, it's fine."

He eats the last of the breakfast as McCree thumbs listlessly at the screen, grimacing at the message he opens.  

"Who you texting?"

"Pharah," Jesse answers, typing his reply. "She's a lil pissed at me cuz I called her super late last night."

Genji leans over to look, catching a glimpse of a screen filled with angry-faced emojis and a sternly worded message about appropriate times to call people. Even as he watches, another message pops up, he only catches the words ‘band practice today u better go' before Jesse covers his phone.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to snoop?"

"Yea but I'm nosy." Genji hops off his chair to bring his dish to the sink.  "So are you going?"

"I suppose, I kinda owe her and I kinda skipped the last few. Several." Jesse frowns. "Maybe the whole last two months, now that I think about it."

"Can I go? I want to see if you guys are any good."

Jesse gives him a pursed faced look of disbelief. "You inviting yourself?"

"Well yeah, if I'm driving you home I could just bring you to wherever this is and hang out. Your friends are fun. You were going to probably invite me anyway, right?"

For a moment Jesse opens and closes his mouth like a fish, at a loss for words, before he grins. "You know what, sure. Just lemme give Pharah a heads up. And it's not till this afternoon, anyway."

"Me and her bonded over your awful movies when you dozed off. No way she'll say no."

Jesse doesn't have to wait long for a reply, and he reads her response out loud with a laugh.  "She says ‘ _hell yeah, tell him we're gonna recruit him.'_ "

Genji shrugs. "We'll see. Your band might be too lame for me to be a part of. Remember, I have a standard to uphold."

When it's time to go, it takes Genji almost half and hour to get the ferrets out from Hanzo's bed, though he leaves their hoarded mess behind. He puts all three back in their cage, makes sure they have fresh water and food, and gives each a fond pat before double checking the door is shut this time.

They head out, Jesse still looking a little putout. Genji offers to let him drive his car but the man refuses, saying that his van can hardly top thirty miles and hour and he wouldn't know what to do with working brakes. When he relays the address for the band practice Genji realizes it's on the outskirts of San Diego, so once they get off the highway he speeds through the back hills. Jesse holds onto the armrest and seat belt the whole time, silent except for what has to be an involuntary squeak as they fly over the top of a hill.

"That is supposed to be a thirty-minute drive from downtown." He says when they finally reach the house, a ranch built on top of a hill. "We made it in _fifteen_ , Jesus Christ. Do you understand what those numbers posted on the speed limit signs mean?!"

"Yeah, the previous high scores." Genji quips. "I'm trying to set a new record."

"You're going to kill me." Jesse quashes his hat back on his head. "That's it. This was a craigslist murder scheme after all.  A drawn out and torturous murder. Your dad has it out for me, or I'm gonna die pining over your brother, or your fucking driving will kill me. I'm dead."

That cracks Genji up, and he cackles as they head inside the small ranch. The upstairs has the lights turned down so it looks as if no one is home, but Jesse opens a door just past the kitchen, obviously familiar with the home. Following, Genji pauses to examine a few pictures framed at the top of the stairs.

A scrawny teenage version of Jesse stands next to Reyes- The man's scarred face is unmistakable. Next to him is an older woman, long greying hair tied into a braid. Her arm is around another younger girl, all knees and elbows and a mischievous grin that he identifies as Pharah. The last person is of similar build to Jesse's dad, but blonde and fair skinned, with a large smile on his face.

Two other pictures flank that one. The two men stand in front of the restaurant, a large Grand Opening banner hanging from the awnings and arms over each other's shoulders. The second picture was taken from inside the building, with Jesse and a now grown Pharah, and other staff standing as a group by the windows. It's more recent than the other group photo, Jesse is sporting his beard, though far more of a patchy version.

"C'mon, they're probably downstairs already. And don't worry ‘bout Gabe's dogs, they're friendly."

"Wait." Genji freezes. He'd assumed they were going over to Pharah's, forgetting entirely that she had told him about the band room setup at Reye's home. "This is your dad's house?"

"You wanted to come," Jesse smirks. "You ain't still scared of Gabe, are you?"

When Genji had waltzed up to the restaurant just past midnight with the cash from Hanzo's account in hand, Jesse hadn't been there. He hadn't seen the absolute fury when Reyes had figured out who Genji was, or how Pharah had to get in between them when Genji's smart-ass and less than forthcoming explanation had set the other man off. He'd thought he was about to be strangled.  

"He looks like he could bench press me sideways." Glancing back at the first picture, he thinks it's not so much that Jesse is scrawny, it's that the two men are absolutely jacked so he looks like a middle schooler in comparison. "I'm scared of him. I think that's reasonable."

"Don't let his looks fool you. Worst that will happen is he'll bug ya till you till you pick up a guitar."

"Or break my neck." Genji swallows.

Reyes had calmed down considerably when Genji had given a more thorough answer. Though the whole car ride to pick Jesse up had been incredibly awkward, neither saying a word till they reached the precinct station. Genji would have been perfectly happy never crossing paths with Reyes again after that.

"Funny." Jesse chuckles. "You wanted to go to band practice, so we're going."

Genji pretends to pray, making the sign of the cross in an exaggerated motion before descending the stairs, much to his companion's chagrin.

The downstairs of the ranch is completely finished, half built into a hill, he can see that the patio slider opens to a fenced in backyard. Inside is an old comfy couch, television and the remaining space is dedicated to various instruments.

A drumkit is tucked into a corner, surrounded by sound damping eggcrate foam around three sides. There are two mic stands, several amps, along with guitars of various shapes and sizes that hang from both the wall or sit on stands. Tacked from corner to corner looks to be a hand-painted banner. ‘BLACKWATCH' is spelled out in bold white letters with a sigil of some sort of skull in the middle of the word. The banner is covered in signatures, he can read cowboy's name in blocky print right near the skull, a smaller but no less messy scrawl reads Fareeha next to it, and many more names he doesn't recognize taking up the rest of the space.

Pharah is sitting on the couch already, a blue and gold Ibanez guitar in her lap.

"Jesse! Nice to see you finally make it back to band practice!"  She says, smiling brightly. "And nice to see you too, Genji. We used to do this once a week, but that asshole's been flaking on me."

"Oh fuck off," Jesse retorts. " You started it with all your _‘I'm gonna get two jobs and work till I keel over and die.'_ thing. Don't think I saw you once from April to June."

"Hey, I work hard, I play hard. Plus Helix is not letting us take overtime hours anymore, not since Khalil feel asleep at that presser." She points, eyebrows raised. "So where have you been? You only have to work Sundays when you gotta cover, which brings me back to my point. You've been flaking."

"I've been busy-"

"No arguments in my music room!" Reyes pulls open the slider, interrupting them. Two enormous dogs bound inside, dark blacks and browns with lolling tongues and bright teeth. Immediately sensing the new person, they begin to bark and rush forward, all attention on Genji.

Genji for his part accepts his fate. Mauled by Reye's dogs was at least an interesting way to go.

"Java! Mocha! Stay down!" Reyes yells. The two dogs pause just short of his outstretched hands, ears perked in interest. "Sorry, greenie. Those two are sweethearts, I promise. It's my princess Frijoles you gotta watch out for."

Held in Reye's arms is a third dog, though it looks more like a black cotton ball with legs. Two tiny ears are just barely visible among her fluffy fur. She senses Genji watching and gives a tiny growl.

"Frijoles! Who's a good puppy!" Jesse sticks his hands out, making a grabbing motion. "Give her over, I wanna say hi!"

"You're spoiling her." Reyes hands the small dog to Jesse and the cowboy begins cooing at her. She answers with a squeaky yip, excitedly trying to lick his face.

Genji hesitantly pats one of the other two dogs, waiting expectantly at his feet. Both are thickset masses of skin and muscle, flappy jowls, and broad chests. The one he pets smiles happily, flopping to the floor to expose his belly. Confident, he begins scratching vigorously, the dog's leg kicking at the air.

Reyes stalks over, arms crossed.

"So. Jesse swears you aren't as big of a p.o.s as your first impression. Pharah tells me you played bass, and she wants you to join up with our little hobby band."

Genji isn't sure how to answer that, so he settles a shrug. The second dog is whining now, tail wagging furiously, clearly wanting his own share of petting. He scratches its ears and is rewarded with a contented boof.

"Show us what you got, kiddo." Reyes cocks his head to the side, nodding at the instruments on the wall. "Take your pick."

Genji blinks. Whatever he expected from Jesse's scary dad, it wasn't an invitation to play music. Of course, he wasn't going to accept it, he was well aware that he had no talent and he wasn't going to sit and get laughed at.

"Rather not. I don't really have any skills besides being a smartass and knowing the best places to score a hit in all of San Diego."

"Gotta start somewhere. Here." Reyes pulls down a bass from the wall, holding it out for him. It's a Fender, solid black and the maple fretboard well worn. "Should'a heard Jesse when he first tried. Think he broke all the strings on my favorite Les Paul in under a week."

"No thanks," Genji says again, more firmly now and waves the instrument away. "I don't know what they told you but I'd rather not disappoint anyone else outside of my family."

"Your choice, then. But I wasn't expecting Thunderfingers out of someone who never held an instrument before."

"Cool." Genji slumps back on the couch. "We're on the same page now. I don't have the talent to do anything anyway, so don't waste your time."

"Talent doesn't mean shit." Reyes eyes narrow as he talks, head shaking. "Talent is nothing without dedication. Practice and determination will get you where you want to go, in music or otherwise. If you want to play, play. I'm not going to give you shit if you're not perfect on the first try."

Genji shrugs again. At one point the opportunity to learn bass would've appealed to him. _A waste of time, a laughable pursuit. Something only delinquents and people who aren't smart enough to pursue a real career do. He was terrible anyway, why would anyone ever want to teach him when he couldn't even figure out how to play the damn thing?_

Reyes grabs a chair and sits across from him, bass across his lap. On the other side of the room, Pharah sits on the couch while Jesse speaks animatedly, pointing to his belt then hat. Both too preoccupied to notice that Reyes has Genji cornered.

"Baby's first guitar song." Regaining his attention, Reyes plays a simple tune, plucking at the two lowest strings. "The riff from Smoke on the Water. You know it?"

"Of course." Genji huffs. "I said I'm bad, not completely new."

Reyes holds the bass out. "Prove it."

Genji takes the instrument and plays, face set in the flattest expression he can manage. Only to prove that he was capable, of course.

"Good." Reyes nods. "What about the line from Feel Good Inc?"

Genji plays that too, trying to look bored. "Yea. That's easy too."

"I won't run you through the simple crap if you just tell me what you know."

He can't pick out an expression in the other man's face or tone. Genji looks down at the bass in his hands, nervously running his finger over the frets. Reyes doesn't move, as if he has all the time in the world to wait.

"I never took lessons or anything. I just kinda bought one because I wanted to. Looked up tutorials online, got a few months in and dropped it."Genji finally admits, letting the words out all at once. "I don't know how to read music or anything like that. I can't seem to learn things by listening, and it just made my father angry anyway because I sucked at it so I gave up."

Reyes nods slowly. Genji expects some sort of disparaging comment, something about how if he really wanted to learn he would have stuck with it, or how any real musician can just pick songs up by ear, or something about how he waited far too long to learn and it was too late now.

"You know how to read tabs?"

"Yeah." Genji softly plucks at the strings, trying to refamiliarize himself with the feel.

Maybe he still kinda wants to learn.

"Cool." Gabe watches carefully. "You got your thumb anchored on the pickup and your hand position looks right, so yeah, you got the very basics down at least. I can think of a few songs off the top of my head that are pretty simple bass lines, and we can run through them today if you want to try that. You'll wanna stand and adjust that strap so the bass sits slanted so you don't hurt your wrists, though." Reyes nods to himself, then moves and takes a seat behind the drumset, picking up the sticks that were laying across a snare.

"Pharah!"

"Yes, tio?" She answers, both her and Jesse pausing mid-conversation.

"This is your plan to get us playing back at the restaurant, come up with a set list. Greenie here is a novice but not completely new, so if you want him to stick around as our bass player shoot for songs with simple lines. I'm thinking shit like Seven Nation Army, or hell, any Foo Fighter song."

"What ‘bout the one from Lit? We used to play that all the time." Jesse says. "Yknow, _‘Can you forget about the things I said when I was drunk-'"_

"That's played with a pick, usually." Pharah taps a finger to her lips. "And I like you singing but that's kinda punky for you."

"So? We're covering songs, not trying to sound exactly like them."

"Oh, I know! Let's do Another One Bites the Dust!" She stands and moves in front of the drumset. "Queen is always fun."

Jesse snorts. "Are you kidding me?  You givin' me shit about Lit but there's no way in hell I can pull anything close to Freddie Mercury out of my damn windpipes."

"Not for you," She replies. "It's a way easy bassline."

"Sure, cuz the only way I'd come close to those high notes is if you nail me in the nuts while I'm singin' em."

"Don't tempt me." She rolls her eyes. "Just sing it down an octave, you diva."

"Wait wait wait!" Genji hasn't moved from the couch, and he holds the bass like a life preserver. "I didn't agree to this yet. I didn't want to join a band today, I was just bored."

"Told you it was a bad idea to snoop," Jesse smirks. "Might as well give it a shot. You're welcome to leave whenever."

* * *

 

Hanzo sits at his desk, the mess of papers he left last night still present and still just at irritating as they were previously. He'd dumped his day old coffee out in the breakroom, reshuffled the piles, and opened the email he'd abandoned and yet, half a day a later, he still can't find the words to say.

Jesse is still on his mind. He'd almost called the man a dozen times since he came in, with partially formed excuses to start a conversation on his lips. _‘Just wondering if you got home okay'_ or _‘Sorry I was so short this morning'_ or perhaps _‘I want to see you again.'_ Each time he picks up his phone he slams it down, eventually tucking as far back in the desk drawer as he can manage.

He had made a promise. Jesse did not deserve what had happened to him, and he most certainly didn't deserve to face jail time for something he did not do.

He finds the little blurb from the local police blotter about the arrest, the cutout tucked away under his keyboard. Courtesy of his father, a way of showing results of his ‘hard work.'

_Police arrested Jesse McCree, 28, of 1125 Crosby Street, El Cajon, on charges of breaking and entering, grand larceny, intent to traffic, and resisting arrest. He was arrested late Tuesday night at his place of work and released on $ 60,000 bail._

A tiny picture of an older mugshot is printed alongside the article, before Jesse grew his beard, dated several years ago.

Resisting arrest. Hanzo frowns over that. Jesse had glossed over details, but he doubted the man had actually done anything wrong while being cuffed. He had heard stories of excessive force, like anyone who watched the news, but he had never really considered what exactly that meant.

Jesse has to have a lawyer by now, so perhaps that avenue was already being considered. Jesse had also stated he knew the arresting officer, and that they had history. It didn't seem too far fetched that whoever had arrested him had gone overboard. Especially to leave him with a black eye and split chin.

He pauses, curious. His father had several connections among the city's police force. Their main company had donated without fail to the charity ball every year for as long as he was aware, and probably since before that. The current chief of police had even attended Thanksgiving at the house, though he had left relatively early.

Hanzo had always assumed that his father had so carefully cultivated these friendships for Genji's sake. A deeper motive than the protection of the family hadn't occurred to him, but it was only logical. More than logical, it fit his father's style of business perfectly.

Charity write-offs would be cataloged under the companies internal finance department. Satya would be in tomorrow, so he makes a note to ask her to retrieve records, dating from the fifteen years previous.

His father usually left him alone when it came to his actual work for the company, but he gets the sinking feeling that his scrutiny wouldn't go unnoticed. After a moment's thought, he writes up the request with the addendum of balancing a ledger, stating that he felt there was a discrepancy in the records. Hopefully, that would be excuse enough, though something like that was usually outside his scope.

It wasn't as if he was blind to the shadier side of the business. His father has always encouraged him to participate when it came to building relationships, making appearances and using the family name as a way to gain influence.

In a way, it had never seemed real. It was just day in day out posturing to faceless people at nameless events that had always seemed closer to a numbers game as opposed to having any permanent effects.

Jesse, kind-hearted and sweet, with horrendous bruising around his eye and wrists, left rattled and restless due to his father's personal vendetta. The nature of just how Hanzo's world functions suddenly seems to have very lasting consequences.

Stymied for now he turns back to the email that has been open on his screen since Saturday night, still at a loss for what he wanted to say to the CEO on the other end. It wasn't nearly as important as before.

Hanzo digs his phone out of his drawer instead.

 

* * *

 

 Sunday afternoon finds Genji once again at Reye's house,  being entusiasticly greeted by the two big dogs.

"Oh thank god, we didn't scare you off," Pharah says when Genji comes down the stairs. "I didn't want to actually have to hunt for a bassist."

Genji shrugs and starts rubbing at Mocha's floppy face. He'd come back for the second practice, albeit reluctantly. Partly due to Pharah's insistence and Jesse's encouragement. Partly due to his usual party group deciding to take a trip to Vegas that he ducked out on.

Mostly, he thinks he came back because he likes the dogs. He gives the big pup one more pat then goes to pull the same bass from before off the wall. He had been back to his father's home once in the last week, late in the middle of the night, and hadn't been able to find the guitar he had bought all those years ago. Wouldn't surprise him if it had been thrown out.

"She just doesn't want to get stuck playing bass herself." Jesse takes his own guitar out of its case, throwing the strap over his shoulder. He fiddles with the mic stand next, frowning to himself. "Neither of us particularly care for it, we used to argue over who'd take bass for what song."

"How'd your arraignment go?" Pharah asks, tuning her own instrument. "That was last week, right?"

"Ugggghhhhhhh." Jesse groans, the mic picking up and amplifying the sound. "We were at the courthouse all day Thursday, just waiting and waiting for me to stand in front of the judge, have a laundry list of charges read to me and my lawyer to enter the plea o' not guilty."

"Anything new?"

"Nope. So I suppose I should be grateful they didn't find anything else to tack on." Jesse shoves at his hat.  "At least Winston, my lawyer,  said it was a good sign. Next, we gotta go to the preliminary hearing, then another arraignment, then some other fucking thing if it goes to court, and probably another fucking meeting, and eventually I go to trial and then I end up prison anyway."

"Don't sound so optimistic, sheesh." She chides.

Genji puts the strap of the bass over his own shoulders, trying to find the right length. "Haven't you done this all before?"

"Kinda. But before I just pled guilty and got sentenced. Never went to trial. This is the first time I'm actually innocent."

Pharah laughs.  "First and last, I'll bet."

"Yeah, yeah." Jesse rolls his eyes."On a side note, Hanzo's been texting me, so maybe I didn't strike out after all."

"I told you, you dork. Nobody justs goes out for dinner and all the crap you were talking about if they're not at least a little interested."

"Well forgive me, Pharah, for not believing you,-"

"Hanzo's talking to you?" Genji cuts in, surprised. "As in casually?"

That would be news to him. Although he hadn't really seen his brother in the last week either, content to couch surf at his friend's homes instead.

"Yeah, I guess." Jesse lets the stand go, finally satisfied with the mic's placement. "Why? Is he not much of a texter?"

"Not usually, no."

"Well, then I'll just consider myself lucky. I'm more than happy to be friends with y'all, even if Gabe don't trust it."

"I never said that." Reyes says, taking a seat at the drum set. "I just said to be careful, mijo." 

 

* * *

 

 

Hanzo copies another folder of documents over to his thumb drive. The last two weeks all of his free time has been dedicated to meticulously combing through years of paperwork, and he's finally found a trail that looks promising.

A listing of real estate purchases, his father buying property for over quadruple the value that it should be. Looking into who he had purchased the property from had led him to the discovery of a shell front company, a business in name only. Tracking the true owner of that had taken longer, involving a carefully worded email to a contact in the San Diego department of Commerce. After a few days wait and follow up call where he'd lied about his father's interest, he'd managed to get the info that tied everything back to a local politician, and that woman was the wife of the current police commissioner.

It was bribery, through shady deals and covert purchases, and it was just an example of how his father was buying influence in not only political matters, but those of the law as well.

As for what to do with the information, he wasn't sure. This was just the tip of the iceberg, but he was positive that this particular event had led to his father being able to personally ask for the arrests of individuals he found troublesome, just as what had happened to Jesse McCree.

His father would undoubtedly laugh in his face if he confronted him with just this. It wasn't enough to be considered real leverage, but maybe if he kept looking, he could find a way to bargain for Jesse's freedom.

He almost snorts at how melodramatic it sounds, but the thought isn't false. Jesse was only facing the charges due to his father's dislike, and it was his father's  influence with the officials in the state's justice system that all but guaranteed a guilty conviction.

For now, Hanzo decides to keep looking.

* * *

 

 

Two hours later Genji feels like his fingers are going to start bleeding, but he's surprised himself by getting through two different songs in their entirety, only getting corrected a handful of times.

"Break time." Jesse sits on the couch with a thump and chugs a bottle of water.  "And Gabe, I'm coming back to work. I can't just sit on my ass all day and worry. Nothing bad's happened. Plus I'm outta emergency funds."

Gabe takes the beer Pharah hands him, rolling his shoulders as he stands. "If you need money I can loan it to you."

"Nope, nuh uh, nada." Jesse shakes his head fiercely. "I'm good, I'll earn it."

"How about as an advanced paycheck?"

"How about I come in tomorrow and just work for it instead?"

"Already got Rein covering." Reyes counters as he pulls open the slider, the dogs filling outside. "So Monday's all set."

"Tuesday?"

"Fine. But I'm closing with you though. Gonna make sure everyone has a shift buddy till this all blows over."

Jesse rolls his eyes, and even Genji can see he thinks that's a tad too overprotective. The subject is dropped, though, and instead turns to other possible songs for what Pharah has termed "Blackwatch's Return-Back from the Grave."

The title was a work in progress.

* * *

 

 

As the meeting drags on Hanzo has to bite his lip to keep himself looking interested. He really wasn't even needed here.  The company's lawyers would deal with the nuances of the purchase contract. No, his sole purpose was to remind everyone else that his father was watching.  

 _As if he was merely an extension of his father's will_ , he muses bitterly.

The vibration of his phone in his pocket is the distraction he's looking for. Under the guise of shuffling the leather bound portfolio in front of him, he slips it onto the table and tucks under the papers. As he hopes, it's Jesse, and he grins to himself as he reads.

_work that slow, huh? Makes me happy im a cook_

With one finger he types back, glancing up briefly to make sure no one had noticed his inattentiveness.  

_you have no idea_

_this is probably the 16th meeting i've been to about this particular purchase alone and they still cannot come to an agreement_

 

_That sounds awful ngl_

_do you have to go to all of them?_

Hanzo sighs quietly to himself.

 

_it's expected of me_

  


_No wonder ur always so stressed_

_maybe you should take another night off, i can think of a few other good restaurants worth checking out_

_or you could swing by here, i wouldn't mind seeing you again :)_

 

There it is again. Jesse' invitation to spend time with him, the causal question with the unwritten promise of something more. Hanzo's anxiety spikes as he turns the words over. Texting was easier than being around him, it was a safe amount of distance. Even that was dangerous, as the last week had proven. Hanzo was eager each time his phone went off, and every night before he went to sleep he would read over the day's conversation between them. Without fail, every day since he'd started texting Jesse.

Even as Hanzo acknowledges all the problems that come with having any sort of relationship with Jesse, as a friend (or otherwise,) he can't help the fond bloom of warmth in his chest as he entertains the possibility.

_….maybe_

_It is crunch time for my company right now, though. :(_

_Dinner with you *was* a lot of fun_

 

Hanzo wasn't a man who used emoticons in messages, nor did he flirt over text. And yet, here he was, hiding his phone behind his work and grinning like a teenager with his first crush.

"Mr.Shimada? Mr. Shimada, your input?"

Hanzo snaps to attention, seeing every set of eyes is on him. He clears his throat, sitting upright and trying to recall what they had just gone over.

A very dangerous distraction indeed.

* * *

 

 

Genji digs for his key, letting himself into his brother's home. Hanzo should be asleep by now, it was near midnight.

To Genji's surprise, as soon as he opens the door and makes his way up the entrance way stairs, he sees that the living room light is on. His brother is hunched over his laptop, brow furrowed in concentration . A mug of coffee sits next to him, along with papers, file folders, and sticky notes spread out on the table, parts of the floor and even the couch.

"Yo."

"Genji?" Hanzo squints as he looks up.

"That's me." He waves his hand in the air. "I'm sleeping here tonight"

"Alright," Hanzo says cautiously. "You are aware it's the middle of the week, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, normal people go to work." His brother huffs, rubbing at his temple.

"You saying I'm not normal?"

"Yes."

"That's not a nice thing to say to your only brother." Genji moves a stack of papers,  opening up space on the couch. "You're not normal either, look at all this shit."

"Don't touch that."

"Too late." Genji shifts another file folder with his foot, resting on the coffee table "Normal people don't bring their work home with them."

Hanzo purses his lips but lets it go. "It's more of a personal project, to be honest."

"A personal project."

"Yes. Move your foot, you're crushing my notes."

Genji rolls his eyes and reaches for one the papers. It's a printout of an older article, written in Japanese. It features his Father and Uncle, and the business they had back overseas, in some small town by the name of Hanamura. He squints at the date- it's from long before either he or Hanzo were even born.

"Researching family history?" He drops the article back on the table, and Hanzo grabs for it, sticking it back in the file folder.

"You could say that. Now stop interrupting me."

"Fine, fine. I'm going to heat up some dinner, have you eaten today?"

Hanzo gives a noncommittal grunt, hunching back over his laptop.

"I'll take that as a no. And Aniki, I know you give me shit about being lazy, but whatever this is, it's ridiculous. "

"Genji," Hanzo looks up with the oh so familiar frown on his face, made ever worse by the circles under his eyes. "How is it that you don't care? About what Father wants from you, and what everyone else expects?"

"Easy," Genji replies. "I just learned to not give a shit. Don't give dad anything he can hold over your head, and he's just a cranky old control freak. You can’t cut someone down when they have nothing left to lose."

* * *

 

  


"You have been busy."

Hanzo starts, looking up at the door of his office to see his father silhouetted against the light.

"Of course. We are heading into the final quarter after all." He keeps his gaze forward, slowly moving the mouse so he can exit out of the older memo he was reading through.  "And I'd rather not delegate this paperwork to anyone else."

He had been so careful to hide his digging. He hopes that his father hasn't caught wind of Hanzo's sudden interest in his less than legal projects.  

"You cannot take everything on yourself, admirable as that trait is." His father steps into his office, head held high.  "If you cannot even trust those under you enough to delegate small-scale tasks to them, you will burn yourself out. Running the company isn't about perfect quarterly reports and investing at the right time. It's a bigger picture than that. It's a culture. A lifestyle. And you are the one…"

Hanzo does his best to not sigh, even as relief sweeps through him. He's heard this speech a thousand times before. _We are more than a company. We are an empire._  At least it means his father is assuming that he's trying to micromanage, instead of trying to find blackmail.

Maneuvering and posturing, always another motive. Before his mother left, before his grandfather passed, before Hanzo was old enough to have the family's expectations mantled on his shoulders he had wanted to become like his father, respected and commanding. He was going to be successful, the pride of his family.

Only too late did he see the cage for what it was.

"Hanzo."

He blinks, stiffening.

"You will head this company one day."

"Yes, father."

"I expect you to act like it.

"Yes, father."

He sees the tiny twitch in his father's temple. He was displeased.

Hanzo doesn't let his gaze drop.

"I see you followed up on that miscreant from Thanksgiving."

"Of course." The change of subject makes him wary, and he tries to keep a neutral expression.  "I am hopeful that Genji has settled down after that. He's been staying away from his usual haunts after the arrest of his friend."

Not technically a lie. The last three weeks had been better than he would've thought possible from his brother, with no early morning pleas for rescue nor drunken appearances on his social media.

He father's eyes flick to his desk. "We shall see. Any amount of time spent away from trouble is an improvement with Genji. I do intend to drive the point home by personally pressing charges against the boy he was consorting with."

"No." Hanzo blurts out then immediately wishes he could take it back. His father's eyes narrow and his head tilts to the side. Questioning.

"No? Hanzo, that is not for you to decide."

"A matter like that is a waste of time." Hanzo mimics his father's pose, straightening the set of his shoulders, hoping that his desperation isn't obvious. "I may have a hard time delegating my paperwork, but even I can recognize that going so far as to appear in court to serve testimony to a petty thief is beneath us."

"That ‘petty thief' insulted me on my own property. I want him to regret the day he ever crossed paths with a Shimada."

"As if he doesn't already?" Hanzo counters.  "My brother is cowed, and the man who he was with is already facing months in court and years in jail at a minimum from the felony accusations alone.  Do you really want to submit yourself to the media circus that would erupt if you pursued your own charges? It's a fool's errand, a waste of time, and most certainly beneath us."

To his surprise, his father barks out a laugh. "Using my own argument against me. Perhaps you are more ready to head this enterprise than I thought."

"I do my best."

"You always do." His father nods. "I agree, it is beneath me. You will go in my stead."

 

* * *

 

 

The third Sunday that he attends, Genji finally admits he's looking forward to band practice. He'd flaked on the nightclub circuit, much to the dismay of Alessand and Vijay. Most of the week he had spent at Hanzo's house, though his brother had been utterly occupied by whatever he was working on. A few nights Genji had stopped in to visit Watchpoint, saying hi to Pharah or Jesse, and chatting with the rest of the staff. He'd even gone home once and eaten dinner with his father, as awkward and quiet as that was. They hadn't even argued. Or talked, or really interacted at all, so it was a good night in his book.

Taking the bass off the stand and pulling a stool over, he begins to run over the warm-ups that Gabe had shown him last week.

"Pharah, Jesse, heads up." Gabe himself comes down the stairs, a carton of water and thirty rack of lite beer for the fridge in the basement. "Jack's doing Christmas this year. You better go or it'll break his little holiday heart."

"Says the guy who makes Halloween a month-long ordeal." Pharah retorts. "Amelie swears she's still finding pumpkin tinsel behind the bar."

"Moving kinda fast, aren't ya?" Jesse adds. "I mean _I_ can handle a new step dad, but your one true puppy love here?"

He points with Frijoles' paws, the little dog upright in his lap, pitching his voice high as if she's the one speaking. _"Gabriel! You're leaving me for a man? A man with cats!?"_

"Both of you, shut the fuck up." Gabe grunts, complete with an eye roll. "This is just the Christmas party anyway, nothing special about it."

The two exchange looks, seemingly unconvinced.

"What are your plans for Christmas, Genji?" Pharah asks, tuning her guitar.

"Nothing really. Usually, my father hosts something at the office the night of, for all the employees and upper management. We don't really do anything as a family. Or if we do I have made it a point to avoid it."

Jesse tilts his head, considering. "Y'all wanna go? To our thing, that is. Both you and Hanzo."

"Don't let him fool you, he just wants to see your brother again."

"Like I couldn't tell," Genji smirks. "Jesse isn't subtle."

"Y'all picking on me again. And I did ask him to come to band practice one week, but I guess he's busy right now."

"Jesse, that's not asking him on a date." Pharah frowns. "That is like, the least romantic thing you could do. _‘Come hang out in my dad's basement with shitty beer and watch us ruin music."_

"I don't want to be pushy! He knows I like him, and if I'm reading these texts right he's flirting with me-"

"If he's not sending nudes by now he's not flirting."

"Some people still have a sense of decency!"

"No, some people are socially constipated. Genji, he's your brother, what's your opinion here? Is Jesse wasting his time or does he have a chance?"

"I dunno." He admits. "He's not lying about being busy, it's the end of the quarter and everything has to be perfect."

Considering the hours Hanzo was pulling right now, his brother would probably appreciate the distraction. It was better than stressing himself into an early grave.

"I'll be right back, gotta make a phone call."

It was for his brother's own good, really.

* * *

 

Three whole weeks of Genji staying out of trouble. Three whole weeks, the longest time of not getting barely decipherable texts and early morning phone calls that Hanzo can remember. Three weeks of his father's ire not being stoked.

Of course it couldn't last.

He checks the address on his phone again, sure that there must be a typo. It's led him to a rambling ranch on the outskirts of San Diego. His brother's car is parked in the driveway, along with two others he doesn't know.

Genji had slurred that Hanzo could ‘let yourself in, I'll be chilling downstairs.'

It was discouraging. He had hoped that they had somehow moved past all this.

As soon as he opens the door music from below assaults his ears.  Loud, the singer crooning in Spanish, an older dance song he hasn't heard in years. Nothing like the electronic house crap that he usually found Genji killing his brain cells too.

He spots an open door to the basement so he heads down.

Only when he makes to the bottom of the stairs does he realize the music is live. Another second, and he rounds the corner to see _Jesse_ in front of the small band. It's his voice he hears- smooth, almost sultry, and it reawakens all the feelings he's done his best to forget since he saw him last.

Even more surprising is Genji, clearly sober, standing a little behind with tapping foot and guitar in hand, brow furrowed in concentration. Even as he watches, his brother's expression turns to a self-satisfied grin, keeping right in time with the music.

Jesse's singing pauses for a moment, and he steps back so Fareeha can come forward and for the third time in as many minutes, Hanzo is blown away when her fingers fly across her fretboard, playing an intricate solo with complicated note arrangements and plenty of personal flair.

There's a man at the drumset who he immediately identifies as Gabriel Reyes, based on Jesse's descriptions. He plays with ease, even with the impresive kit arrayed in front of him.  As he listens he thinks the Reye's playing something a little more embellished than the original song, but he's not sure.

Genji's still right in time with the bass line, and the three of them get right back into sync when Pharah and Jesse trade places again. Jesse takes the mic and picks up the verse, head tapping to the rhythm.

 _"Para bailar la bamba, Para bailar la bamba se necesita una poca de_ \- Hanzo!?"

Jesse finally spots Hanzo leaning against the wall by the stairs, yelping his name through the mic. Only then does his brother lose the baseline, a burst of laughter carrying over the sudden cacophony as the band's song comes to a sudden halt.

"Why are you here?" Jesse's cheeks are flushed, and his smile splits his face. "I mean, not that I'm not happy to see you, cuz I am."

Hanzo laughs, the last of his anger melting away. "Genji said he was drinking and needed a ride."

"I lied. Sue me." His brother shrugs. "It's Pharah and Jesse's fault anyway. They were really really desperate for a bass player, so here I am, talentless waste of space and all."

"It's not a lack of talent. Everything has a learning curve." Reyes says, to Hanzo's surprise. "You keep practicing, you'll get better, end of story."

His brother rolls his eyes, but Hanzo can see the pleased smirk from where he's standing.

Reyes fixes Hanzo with a cold stare, moving out from behind the drum set. "You must be Hanzo. I'm Gabriel Reyes."

"I have heard about you from Jesse. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." He extends his hand, defaulting to polite. The man had the same no-nonsense air as his father, albeit with a rougher edge.

Reyes's grip is firm. "I understand I have you to thank for bailing Jesse out."

There's an unspoken question of why, and he can feel Reyes's hand tighten momentarily before he lets go. "Yes. I assure you I did not do so to hold it over your head."

"I would hope not. I don't take well to people taking advantage of my family."

"Then we are on equal footing here. My brother's and I involvement in the matter should be kept quiet, if that gives you more reason to trust me. I believe Jesse's innocent, but my father…" he trails off.  

Reyes's eyebrows shoot up, and he nods slowly.

"Hey." Jesse, grinning still, steps close and lays a hand on his shoulder, gaining his attention. "So Genji brought you here under false pretenses, but you're welcome to stay for a bit. There's plenty to drink and we usually order food. And seeing you in person is a heckuva lot better than just texting."

"If I am not interrupting your practice, then I would love to." Hanzo can't help but smile back, pleased that Jesse seems so happy to see him, before his thoughts go back to what his father wanted. "I also need to talk to you, when you have a moment."

"Sure thing." Jesse look turns concerned. "Right now?"

Hanzo shakes his head. "It can wait."

His family always made things complicated.

"If you're sure." Jesse drops his hands to his side. "Take a seat, then, and we'll try and sound halfway decent."

"Alright!" Pharah calls, playing a loud chord. "We gotta audience! Genji, Jesse, let's go. Hanzo, prepare to be wowed! Or more likely slightly impressed. Hopefully not disgusted. Introducing Blackwatch- the best cover band this side of the Rio Grande!"

 

* * *

 

 

Blackwatch doesn't make it through every song. Usually it's due to Genji missing a transition or fumbling the line, but it doesn't seem to bother the rest of them. Reyes brings everyone to a stop, goes back and shows what went wrong, and they try again till they get it right. More rarely, Jesse stumbles over lyrics, on songs it seems they haven't practiced too much. Once that ends with Pharah calling him out and they have to pull up the results on google, the group dissolving into a fit of laughter at Jesse's botched wording.

It's fun. Hanzo claps whenever they actually complete a piece and more often than not finds himself laughing at their antics. The dogs eventually cuddle up on the couch with him after sniffing him over, even the little yappy one. Jesse asks him if he has any request, so he asks for Freebird. Pharah and Jesse end up playing it at the same time, both trying to outdo one another with how melodramatic it sounds.

Watching how at ease his brother seems is a blessing as well. Genji smiles more often than not, and while he retains his sarcastic manner he accepts the calm critique that is given to him, not a hint of his normal begrudging attitude. It's still another hour before the group takes a break, not until the sun drops below the horizon and night falls in full. The decision is made for pizza, Gabe is the one they vote to call in the order.

The three dogs all head to the slider, and Jesse produces a cigarillo out of his bag on the couch.

"Smoke break. Hanzo, wanna come outside with me? You said you wanted to talk."

Without the music from the amps, the room is a lot quieter, and he feels his nerves spike. He hadn't told Jesse about what his father had asked of him yet.

Jesse picks his way to the gate at the edge of the property, before sitting down and pulling out his lighter. Hanzo follows, perching himself beside him. It's a cool night, though as it is halfway through December that's not unexpected. It's a pleasant feeling after the warmth inside the basement.

"I'm happy you're here." Jesse tells him, once his cigarillo is lit and clamped between his teeth. "Missed your company."

Hanzo gives him a small smile, though his eyes are on the dogs, watching as they chase one another in and out of the porch light. They're far enough away from the city that the lights are faint glow on the horizon, and he can see stars hanging in the sky.

They sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, Jesse content to puff away. He doesn't push Hanzo, which is something he can appreciate.

Hanzo eventually speaks . "My father isn't planning on testifying at your court case."

"That's great." Jesse's eyebrows shoot up, glancing over to look at Hanzo. "Right?

"He expects me to go instead." Hanzo sighs. "So, in a way, it's good news for you."

"Oh," Jesse pauses. "Well, that's pretty shitty of him."

Hanzo gives a wry twist of his lips. "You could say that."

Jesse shifts, hooking one of his boots over a fence rail. "Did you..tell him no?"

"I can't do that." He shoves his hands in his pockets, unsure how to explain just how hard it was to tell someone like his father ‘no.'

"Han," Jesse starts, taking another drag. " What's the worse he could do to you? You have your own place, and you're smart, you could find a job just about anywhere. Why do something you don't want to do?"

Hanzo shakes his head. "You don't understand the type of influence he wields. I would be as good as banished from finding work again."

"I just hate seeing you so unhappy. You and your brother both. Having your whole life dictated for you- that ain't right. What if you find something that you want, that your father don't-then what?"

"Something that I want..." Hanzo muses. There _was_ something he wanted, very much so.

"Well, yeah. You can't tell me you’ll just let him decide your whole life forever. You're your own person, and right now you're putting yourself between a rock and a hard place. Ain't no way to live."

"I know." He sighs. "At least I'm coming to figure that out. On the brighter side of things, I might be able to give such a terrible testimony that you will go scot-free."

"For some reason, I get the feeling that won't work." Jesse chuckles. "That can't be what your dad wants, right?"

"Of course not, he still thinks that punishing you is getting to Genji." Hanzo snorts, then turns to face the man beside him. "Which, I have to say, I have never seen Genji this involved before. He's enjoying this,  and it's thanks to you and your family."

"It's not a big deal, sugar." Jesse shrugs. "He wanted to play so we let him. ‘Sides, we needed a bassist."

"It is a big deal." Hanzo insists. "Genji never does anything without being forced, and he never follows through. This is something he's enjoying, and...." he pauses. "Did you just call me sugar?"

"Oh, guess I did." Jesse taps his cigar against his thumb. "Kinda slipped out, term of affection and all that. Is that okay?"

"No, It's fine." Hanzo blushes, glad for the poor lighting. "I guess I'm not used to terms of affection. Although considering how you text, I really shouldn't be surprised."

"I can pick another nickname if you want. Darlin', pumpkin, sweetheart-"

"Sugar is fine." Hanzo wrinkles his nose. "Sweetheart sounds like something you'd call a girlfriend."

"Or boyfriend." Jesse winks. "I _could_ call you gorgeous. I think that fits you too."

Hanzo laughs at that, suddenly giddy. Maybe it's the drink, or maybe it's Jesse's continuing ability to get him out of his own head, but being this close to Jesse makes him happy down to his very core.

_Something that he wants._

He's wanted _something_ for weeks.   

Jesse takes another drag, and emboldened, Hanzo reaches over and plucks the cigarillo right from between his teeth.

"Hey-"

Hanzo takes his own curious drag, too deeply it turns out, immediately coughing.

"Don't inhale it! It's not a cigarette!"Jesse pats Hanzo's back in an attempt to ease his coughing.

It takes several moments for him to regain his breath. Face burning with embarrassment he buries his head into Jesse's shoulder, grasping at his shirt. The other man continues to rub soft circles on his back.

The causal touch feels like sparks against his skin.

"Coulda asked me first, y'know. Would have told you how." Jesse chuckles softly. "Watch and learn."

With his free hand, he takes the cigar from Hanzo's fingers, his other arm still resting on his back. Hanzo bites at his lip, heart racing.

_Something that he wants._

"Just hold it in your mouth, s'all about the flavor. They all got different tastes-some are spicy and some are sweet.  There's honey and fruit and all sorta weird ones."

This close he can hear Jesse's heart beat, flutter quick despite his easy voice.

"All you do is breathe it in, and let the smoke sit right on your tongue. Like so."

Jesse inhales to demonstrate, only pausing for a few moments before he blows smoke into the night. He offers the cigar to Hanzo, the slight movement bringing him that much closer. "Wanna try again?"

His hand has settled around Hanzo's shoulders, and Hanzo relishes it. He's sure now, this is where he wants to be. Responsibility and loyalty and his duties- what was wrong with just living as he wants to, for once?

"I think I'd rather taste it second hand." He's made his decision.

He only gives Jesse only a moment to comprehend his words before tilting his head upward and their lips meet. A brief, fleeting contact, hardly more than a few seconds. Just a taste- a toe in the water.

Hanzo sits back, hardly daring to breathe. He can decidedly taste the lingering aftertaste of Jesse's cigar, spicy and honey sweet.

Jesse has frozen in place, eyes wide and a small grin worming its way across his face.

It's that small smile that causes Hanzo's heart to leap into his throat, and he keeps his eyes on the other man.

"Oh." Jesse finally says, taking another stiff drag.

"Oh?" Hanzo echos.

"Yknow," The other man exhales, "I don't think you got a good enough taste. Lemme check."

Smooth as silk, he sets the cigar aside and his hand comes up to cup the side of Hanzo's face. Jesse’s kiss is much more sure, breath from his nose tickles his skin, lips pliant against his own.  

It's over too soon, just as his breath begins to catch and build in his chest, Jesse is pulling back and away and Hanzo wants to chase him.

He _needs_ more.

Jesse's thumb is softly stroking his jawline, rubbing against the hair of his beard. He curls his fingers under his chin before slowly lowering his hand, eyes sparkling all the while.

Hanzo swallows, torn between leaning forward and stealing another kiss, or reliving the moment he just partook in. Jesse stands slowly, his touch lingering down Hanzo's arm before he lets go. They hear the slider open, Pharah calls the dogs back in.

Jesse nods back towards the door. "See you inside, sweetheart."


	7. Willing to Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly fluff. Like a lotta fluff. Feel good stuff through and through. Plot is happening, but also lotta kissing and fuzzy warm feelings and a little bit of Hanzo laying out some pure sass.
> 
> Enjoy the fluff while you can.... ;P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up two months late with starbucks* Heeeeeyyyyy
> 
> SO some notes- this fic is over a year old and I totally thought i'd be done by now, which if I could kick past me's overzealous butt I would.  
> god i am so bad at updates. For anyone whose stuck with me this long, you have my sincerest thanks o7
> 
> Huge thank you to [Freebooter4ever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freebooter4Ever/pseuds/Freebooter4Ever) again, for both the beta editing and the encouragment. She also wrote her first mchanzo fic and it's great, featuring Kabuki Hanzo and a story that has me laughing out loud so please, give her some love, take a peak at the first chapter [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13517379/chapters/31005030)and the updates are gonna be worth it.

Jesse just might be screaming inside his head.

Just a little. The good kind. The “I can’t believe that fucking worked” giddy cheer, or perhaps more of a “Holy shit, holy shit, _holy shit, we kissed!_ ” kinda squeal that definitely would not be a dignified noise for a man his age to make.

And yet, despite his best effort to force his expression into something neutral as he slides open the patio door, a sort of breathless giggle escapes past his lips. An ear-splitting grin follows, along with a quiet (or so he hopes) hum of pure happiness. 

Hanzo- handsome, suave, cool as a cucumber Hanzo kissed him, and more importantly let Jesse kiss him back. _Finally._

“Okay, you look smug as hell, Jesse.” Pharah’s eyeing him with blatant suspicion. “You finally grow a pair?”

He’s nodding before she can finish her question, adding an eyebrow waggle in for good measure.

She gasps. “You did _not!_ ”

“Mmmmmmhmm.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Genji looks around from where he was currently rubbing at Java’s belly. “Who did what now?”

“I think Jesse put the moves on your brother.”

“Huh.” Genji shrugs.  “One of you was going to figure it out sooner or later, you can’t _both_ be socially constipated.”

“Hey!”

Genji sits up enough to level him with an all to serious gaze. “Look, I don’t care, as long as you didn’t send Hanzo into some sort of panic and leave him out there. Or did you?”

“No! I wouldn’t do that!” Jesse shakes his head, hands raised. “I’m not like that.”

Though he _did_ just finally kiss his crush, then turn away to walk back inside. Not because he was trying to play it cool or anything. Yup.  


“Then where is he?”

“Uh…”

Genji and Pharah are giving him twin flat stares, and that makes him blush even harder. He turns and fumbles for the door, squeezing his eyes shut. Undeniably he did just leave Hanzo out there, alone, after that smoke filled and really hot kiss and it was all because, he, Jesse Idiot McCree, wanted to look like he was a badass.

The slider opens before he can touch it though, bringing with it Hanzo and a palpable wave of relief. Jesse sees a smile playing on Hanzo’s lips and a faint blush coloring his cheeks as the other man steps back inside. He flicks his gaze upwards, their eyes meet, and both turn several shades more red in response.

Jesse lifts his hand and gives a tiny wave. And immediately cringes, because what the fuck who does that? Who kisses someone and then _waves?_

“ _Smooth_.” Pharah snorts. “Thanks, Hanzo, I think you broke him.”

“I-uh-I-” Hanzo really isn’t better off than Jesse, if they were being honest. His blush has spread down his neck and to his chest. It’s adorable, he would like nothing more than to kiss the other man again.

Hanzo clears his throat and tries again. “It’s between us, thank you very much.”

For a moment he wavers in the doorway, then resolutely steps into the room and takes a seat on the couch. “But yes. Jesse _is_ smooth.”

Genji groans in a way that conveys all the disgust that only a younger sibling is capable of.

* * *

By the end of the night, Pharah long gone and Genji peeling out of the driveway, Hanzo and Jesse linger in the light of Gabe’s porch, hand in hand.

Hanzo can feel his pulse racing, still riding his ecstatic high from earlier. Jesse glances to the side, but each time their eyes meet he grins again, his eyebrows arching high enough to touch his hat.

“So…” Jesse starts after it becomes apparent that the awkward silence is doing them no favors. “Hi, I’m Jesse, and I got a big ol’ crush on the pretty businessman who’s got the sharpest wit this side of the States. Today he kissed me and I still feel like I’m dreaming.”

“I- “Hanzo actually giggles, flushing all the harder as he realizes what sound is coming out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, I just...I still can’t believe how you talk, half the time.”

“Well,” Letting out a long breath, Jesse laughs too, reaching up to cup his hand on Hanzo’s chin. “Guess I can’t find that too much of an insult seeing that you’re at least a lil’ bit attracted to me.”

“True. It’s disgustingly charming.” Hanzo lets himself lean into his hand. “You have a wonderful singing voice as well. If you had sung to me that night I stayed over I might have kissed you then.”

“You don’t say.” Jesse blinks, his features softening as his fingers curl under his chin. “Don’t know what made you take the leap, but damn if I ain’t glad.”

“Me too.” Hanzo glances down, eyes lingering over Jesse’s mouth. He hopes the other man will read his intentions.

“Music to my ears.” Jesse gives him a sly grin, snaking his free hand around Hanzo’s back to pull him closer. “Next time I get you to myself though, I promise it won’t be at my dad’s house.”

“I will count on that.” Hanzo says, and Jesse finally dips his chin so their lips meet.

To his delight, he can still taste the faintest hint of spice from that cigar.

* * *

Genji beats him back home, by virtue of his less than cautious driving and Hanzo’s own lingering goodbye to Jesse. His brother’s car is parked crooked across the driveway, and by the time Hanzo gets through the front door Genji has already made himself comfortable, lounging on the couch and Momo curled up on his chest. The other two ferrets are tussling on the floor amid scraps of paper Genji has tossed for them to chase.

Hanzo trails up the stairs, mind circling over the end of the night.

It was all so new. Exciting and exhilarating, sending his heart fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt in recent memory. In a way far too similar to anxiety induced palpitations, now that he was alone again. The same way that it made his stomach tight with unease, and his throat dry in a manner akin to sandpaper.

Away from the sanctuary that was Jesse’s presence, it’s all too easy to see how much potential there was for everything to go wrong. As if he was poised over a precipice, one foot dangling over air, and half convinced he should just jump. Or maybe that’s just what genuine attraction feels like. Terrifying and thrilling all at once.

Did Jesse purposefully do that sinful purr with his voice or was it just natural?

He grits his teeth, frustrated. It had seemed so simple to just kiss the other man, and he wasn’t going to regret that. No, it’s the _‘now what’_ that was going to drive him mad. How can he entertain the idea that a relationship with Jesse was even possible, between his father’s disapproval and the mess that was the legal situation?

A stubborn refusal to give up this fledgling liaison snakes to the surface. Hanzo often had to bow his head to others wishes, his family's chief among them. Now that he had this, this taste of genuine affection, he realized just how loathe he was to let that go.

No. Hanzo nods, once, firm in his choice. This will work. He will _make_ it work. Jesse was worth the struggle.

Still, that leaves him with the knowledge that he is very much floundering. Hanzo had never been one to date casually, and it’s very apparent that he is in over his head. And that means that he is going to have to do something that he’d never, _ever_ thought he was going to be desperate enough to do. He bites back a frustrated sigh.

“Genji.”

He is going to ask his brother for help.

“Wha- Hanzo?” Genji sits up, Momo rolling down his chest to his lap, her feet waving in the air in ferrety indignation as she attempts to right herself. “What are you doing home?”

“I live here.” Hanzo frowns. “Where else would I go?”

Genji squints, perhaps glaring at him. “No shit. I thought you were going back with cowboy.”

“Oh.” He blinks, the registers what exactly Genji is implying. “I _just_ kissed him, that doesn't mean I’m ready to sleep with him!”

“Right.” His brother says evenly, still eyeing him suspiciously. “So, you don't like him that much after all.”

“No! Jesse’s great!” Hanzo swallows. This was the part he was sure he was going to mess up. “Wait, do you think I should have...”

He trails off, gesturing half-heartedly.

“Well, yeah.” Genji leans forward, his tone conspiratorial. “Generally, that's how hookups work.”

“I don't want to just  _hook up_ with him!” he protests.

Genji blinks. “Well, I totally misread the situation then. If you're not interested then just tell him, Jesse seems like he’ll get over it quickly.”

Hanzo finds he's becoming quickly bewildered by his brother's answers. “Of course I’m interested in him, Genji, I wouldn't have kissed him otherwise.”

“Alright now I’m confused." Genji's expression mirrors his own. " Are you trying to play hard to get? Cuz I will tell you that shit gets old quick and if he’s like me, he’ll just find someone else-”

Hanzo cuts him off. “I want a _relationship_ with him. I want to date, and be sweet and get him presents and overall I definitely don't want our family to ruin this for me. How do I make this happen? How do you pull it off?”

“Oh. Shit.” His brother’s eyes widen in understanding. “Shit. You are so fucked, aniki.”

“Well, that's reassuring.” He mutters. "Thanks."

“I have a policy of not getting attached, Hanzo.” Genji shakes his head, for once serious.“Being in an actual relationship is the exact opposite of that.”

“You've dated _hundreds_ of people, Geni, how can you not be good at this?”

Genji shrugs, nonchalant.“I’ve _slept_ with hundreds of people. There’s a difference.”

“Clearly.”

“Now that sarcasm just makes you sound jealous.”

“Oh right, jealous that you are probably loaded with std’s.”

“Funny. Now can we get back to the _why_ you want to seriously date the cowboy, of all people?” His brother settles back on the couch, gathering Momo into his arms. 

“I…” Hanzo fumbles, feeling defensive. “He's a good person, and he cares about me, and i just really like spending time with him.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?” Genji eyebrows are pulled together, faint horror crossing his face.

“Genji, I am serious.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“How do I handle this?” He winces at home much like a whine that sounds.

“Look, Hanzo.” His brother meets his gaze, fingers tapping his chin as he seems to contemplate the situation. “There is a very simple solution here.”

“There is?” Hanzo leans forward intently.

Any insight on how to manage to date Jesse and keep his family unaware was welcome, now that Genji understood what he was asking.

Nodding sagely, Genji continues. “Sleep with cowboy and get over him.”

Hanzo glares, letting his silence convey his incredulity.  

“That’s all the advice I got, Aniki.” Genji shrugs. “I’m halfway sure you’re just experiencing like normal, human attraction. Since you never date. So go get laid, and you’ll stop freaking about that.  Hookups happen, and then when life moves on its not a big deal. Hell, keep Jesse as a booty call or something, if you’re so into him.”

Hanzo shakes his head in disbelief. He should have realized that his brother’s advice would be borderline useless.

 

* * *

Back home himself, Jesse starts to earnestly clean his apartment. It’s been months since he's had the motivation, and he intends to ride out this wave as far as it will take him. He sets his phone on the table, opening up the music player. He was very much in a singing mood, feeling practically buoyant after the evening he’d just had.

Opening notes of a lone guitar come forth from the speaker, a tad melancholy. He laughs to himself as he recognizes the song. _Perfect_.

 

_Blame it all on my roots_

_I showed up in boots_

_And ruined your black tie affair ..._

Starting on his living room, he tosses all of the takeout containers, clears off his table, stacks the mass of papers into some sort of pile, all while belting out his best Garth Brooks impression. Digs out a broom that was tucked in the corner of the tiny hall closet and sweeps, even shoving the couch out from the wall so he could reach behind it. Wets a paper towel and wipes down the coffee table, scrubbing at the old stain in the middle for half the song before he admits it’s a lost cause. Cleared of clutter, his home looks halfway decent.

Pulling out the Dvd’s he rearranges them again, back into the order they're supposed to be in and wiping dust from the shelf. Once again organized,  he nods happily to himself, then heads to the kitchen.

Hanzo _likes_ his singing. The way he looks at him, like Jesse’s the only thing worthy of his attention, and how his smile starts so small, before it spreads across his face...

The kitchen too is swept. He pushes the dirt right out the back door in lieu of a dustpan, and he next tackles the dishes piled in the sink with rare gusto. Scrubbing at the crusty bits of food in a soup pot that has sat for far too long he makes a note to actually buy a thing of dish soap and some brillo pads next time he's in the store.

While he’s at it, might as well restock the pantry. He should text Hanzo and see if he has any favorites, or perhaps he could convince him to come by work and let him cook for him again. Pharah was right, he really shouldn't be living off of takeout.

He could stand to do laundry too, especially if he was going to Jack’s holiday party and Hanzo would be going with him. It doesn’t take long before his hamper is full, along with two trash bags. He ends up hauling it down to his van, there’s a laundromat right near work so he can take care of that tomorrow.

He’s humming the chorus of that same song again, sliding the door of his van shut when it hits him.

A Christmas present.

What the hell do you get someone you’ve just kissed for the first time? Are they even technically dating yet? Would a present be too much too soon?

Jesse freezes, chewing on his lip, hands bundled in the pockets of his jeans. The Christmas party was Thursday. Four days from now.

Well, _shit._

* * *

 

 _“Hey, sweet pea._ ”

“Jesse,” Hanzo smiles at the nickname, locking his office door behind him to find a quiet moment to take Jesse’s call on his personal cell. It was the last day before the office closed for Christmas, and he’d been absolutely swamped in last-minute negotiations that he’d hardly had time to breathe let alone talk.

“Do you miss me already, cowboy?”

 _“‘Course. I’m a sucker for cute guys with an attitude.”_ That purrs is back, and that alone makes Hanzo’s heart flutter. _“Jus’ wanted to check that you’re coming down to the Christmas party. I know it’s only a couple days away and all but I’d love to have you be there, an’ Genji was already invited, so it’s not like you’d be intruding at all.”_

He leans back against the door. Already the phone on his desk is beeping with an incoming call, and his work cell in his pocket seems as if it has yet to stop vibrating with email notifications. He sighs, more out of annoyance towards his job than anything else.   “I have my father’s work function to attend first.”

 _“Oh, I getcha. Well, how ‘bout the Christmas day you swing down an’ hang out?”_ Jesse starts to babble, sounding both eager and contrite. _“I don’t wanna bug you, but I’d love to see you again, and I figure it’s Christmas-”_

Hanzo laughs softly. “Jesse, hold on. I can come to the party afterward. I have to make an appearance at my father’s event at a minimum, but I promise I will leave as soon as I am able.”

A whoosh of static from the other end, followed by Jesse’s bashful chuckle. _“That’s great, honey bee, I’m gonna look forward to it.”_

As Jesse gives him a quick rundown of what to expect, Hanzo finds he is too. That eagerness (and no lack of text messages between them) carries him through the end of the work, and all the way up till Christmas Eve.

To bad that his father’s crown event of the season always turned into a headache for some reason or another.

Like every year preceding, hundreds of people mill in the large banquet hall. Sparkling crystals and beautiful wreaths have been hung overhead, strung through with tiny lights that mimic fresh fallen snow. More decorative greenery adorns the walls, real boughs of evergreen and winter berries, all lending to the elegance of the event. White tree branches sit in marble vases adorned with small ornaments that glitter in the night. Kitty corner from the open dance area sits a live string ensemble. Dozens of attendees are dancing to the waltz, evening ball gowns the brightest spots of color on the floor.

Round tables take up both ends of the hall, each place set with fine silverware, delicate china and personalized name cards. The centerpieces are individually carved ice sculptures, birds or polar bears, snowflakes or frozen flowers. It’s an à la carte dinner because a buffet would be somehow unimpressive. The dessert table, festooned as well, is the only station that guests must serve themselves.  A chocolate fondue fountain, sits near a dazzling array of fresh fruits to dip, and multitudes of pastries that seemed more art than food with lacy sugar curled ribbons and flawless frosting dominate the spread. There's a full bar as well, one on each end of the hall, and Hanzo grimaces as he cuts through the snaking line of people who are waiting for liquor.

Waiters, trays full of champagne glasses or hors-d'oeuvres, pick their way through the crowd, instructed to be as unobtrusive as possible, yet to always anticipate the needs of the guests.It’s an event meant to impress, under the guise of some sort of charitable goodwill for any upper management employees lucky enough to be invited. Most of the _real_ guest list is his father's business associates, and, he muses, whoever is currently a target for bribing. Point in case being the police commissioner and his wife, seated at the head table, sipping on glasses of _Armand de Brignac Brut Gold_ while his father makes small talk with them.

All he has to do is make it through a few hours of this, then he could find some sort of excuse and leave, finally getting away from this pointless facade.

He’d grown up with the notion that Christmas Eve was meant to be spent with your significant other,  something to celebrate between the two of you. He can even recall his parents exchanging small gifts and spending the evening away from home, leaving his brother and him in the care of a sitter. That had been back in Japan, though, and as he reflects he realizes this ostentatious party was something that had started not long after they had moved to America. He wonders if Genji remembers how it used to be.

Hanzo makes a point to avoid being accosted this year, giving short answers to those who did approach him and outright avoiding those who had a penchant for drawn-out conversation.  He’d circled the length of the room several times now, merely so it wasn't obvious to his father that he couldn't even bother with basic decorum, with the added benefit of not being cornered by over-eager hanger-ons looking to curry favor. Once the mass of people hits its peak, he starts in earnest to hunt for Satya, here somewhere. She had an update for him, something he was cautious about sending via email.

He spots the bright blue of Satya’s elegant formal dress among the other patrons, towards the edge of the hall. Bright electric blue fabric drapes over her left arm and shoulder, skimming along the ground, gold border sparkling in the light. Unfortunately, he notes, she’s currently backed to the wall, her right hand being clutched at by one of his most abhorrent business acquaintances.

Satya’s mouth is downturned in a frown, her free hand is curled through part of the drape. She runs her thumb over and over the ridges- She’d made it explicitly clear on her first day working in his office that she did not like being touched. Every single time Maximilien was close by the broker had made it a point to harass her.

Pale skinned with dyed jet black hair greased back so it appears nearly plastic, rheumy eyes red-rimmed and set in a squint, Maximilien is leaning forward as if he’s whispering to Satya. Hanzo cuts through the crowd and watches as she attempts once more to free her hand from his boney grasp with a sharp jerk, but he refuses to let go.

“I would prefer you address those concerns to my employer, Sir.” She grits out, anxiety making her words clipped. “And _please_ , release my hand.”

“Maximilien.” Hanzo is in range and reaches out to grab the man’s shoulder, gripping harder than necessary. “What do you want with my assistant?”

“Oh, if it isn't Sojiro’s shadow.” The other draws himself back from Hanzo’s grip and Satya’s hand is finally freed. “Tell me, has your father let you make any more decisions since the Oppenwield fiasco? Shame how those prices dropped so fast, perhaps if you had consulted with me that all could have been avoided.”

Hanzo focuses all his distaste into his glare, just barely keeping a sneer from his own voice. “I am doing quite well, thank you. May I ask how is the divorce? Did your ex-wife take your fashion taste as well as your  vacation home?”

The businessman’s expression doesn't change, but Hanzo sincerely doubts that the aging stockbroker has any emotions left as he probably sold them last time the market crashed. A conceited sniff is his only answer, through Maximilien’s flat, pale nose, and Hanzo is reminded that Genji’s nickname for the man was _‘robot Voldemort.’_ The man sucks air in through his teeth, obviously forming some retort that Hanzo really doesn't care to entertain.

He cuts him off.“What do you want, Maximilien?”

The typical conversation at events always circled around what the true intent was, as if everyone was replaced with vultures around roadkill. Hanzo does not have the patience to bandy words tonight, eager to leave as soon as it is reasonable.

Ever since he’d let himself kiss Jesse, the iron grip he'd had on his self-control had faltered. A floodgate was now open, things that before would have garnered no reaction from him before now get under his skin, and the things he'd found already irritating were practically intolerable. Like dealing with Maximilien.  

He reaches for a passing waiter's tray to nab a glass of champagne. He needs something to occupy his hands while talking with the other man, lest he attempts to strangle him.

“I heard a rumor that your father was in talks to acquire a significant portion of Talon enterprise. Nothing has been filed publicly, but a transfer of that size would affect any broker’s portfolio...”

Hanzo tries not to roll his eyes as Maximilien starts to drone on. A glance at the head table shows his father watching intently, though his features were unreadable from across the floor.

Of course. Maximilien _was_ a very wealthy man, the CEO of one of the largest brokerage firms in the United States.  Someone his father was keen to keep happy, as far as business went.

But Hanzo is not his father.

“...in any case, since I personally oversaw the funding for Shimada Enterprises stateside operations, it would be folly-”

Hanzo inhales once more before interrupting Maximilien’s wheezed entreaty. “I’m sure you think you’re being quite subtle in your attempt to glean information about closed deals. I regret to inform you that, no, you aren’t, and that you’ll have to find out like all the other sycophants who want to leech off of us.”

Satya’s jaw drops, her hand covering her mouth.

Maximilien’s blank expression registers a nigh imperceptible smidgen of offense as the man clacks his jaw closed. Hanzo takes a sip of his champagne, hopeful that the broker will take the hint and go desiccate somewhere else.

“My apologies, _Mr._ Shimada.” A dry rasp of a sigh and Maximilien slowly steps back. “I was unaware that Sojiro had two ill-bred sons. I assumed that when he mentioned a family embarrassment, he’d only meant your degenerate brother.”

Hanzo later tells himself that the sheer amount of stress that comes from the end of the financial year was responsible for his next action. It wasn’t years of festering resentment for the type of people who he had to interact with on a daily basis. Nor years of hearing thinly veiled insults levied from people who he was expected to work in partnership with. And certainly not in defense of his younger brother, who absolutely was a degenerate if he was being honest.

Hanzo dumps the rest of his drink directly over the other man's tuxedo.

For a moment, they both freeze, Hanzo with arm extended, glass tipped out in front of him, Maximilien with mouth open and eyes wide in a way that is reminiscent of a dried up fish found on the beach. Ever so slowly, the champagne seeps down the front on the man's waistcoat (Armani, Hanzo notes in that vague back of mind way when his brain is still catching up to reality) while every other guest in the near vicinity goes quiet as the tableau unfolds.

“Oh!” Hanzo reacts first purely by virtue of having a pulse, fumbling at the nearest cloth like object he spots-one of the decorative folded Christmas tree tabletop napkin displays. There's a crash behind him, his yanking topples glasses and table settings. Crystal glasses shatter, far, far too loudly on the marble floor.

Hanzo winces, both inside and out. If they had not already attracted everyone's attention, that would certainly do so now.  

“Mr. Shimada, I believe the restrooms are this way. If you would like to get something to clean up.” Satya’s hand presses onto his shoulder, and she hands him a neatly folded napkin, demurely taking the now empty glass from his hand.

He can see his father has left the head table and is marching across the room.

“Ah, yes, thank you Satya.” It's all the prodding he needs to recover his composure. “I am so sorry, Mr. Maximilien. Let me go get you something to soak that up.”

He makes an exit, Satya right behind, leaving the now saturated CEO sputtering in impotent rage.

As if the night can’t get any worse. Hanzo had never quite lost his composure like that before, and never in front of so many people. His father was going to be furious.

Genji would have been proud. Hanzo buries his face in his hands, walking right past the restroom, down the grand staircase and out into the night, heading towards the closest dumpster with the half-formed idea he could throw himself inside.

Satya follows him, steps quiet and measured. She’s silent for several long moments, and as Hanzo finally stops with his back against cold concrete, sinking to his knees and close enough to the trash to feel right at home she finally speaks up.

“That...:” She pauses, peering towards his face, “was intentional, correct?”

He sighs for what has to be the hundredth time this night her and looks up at her. “Yes.”

Her laughter bubbles forth, like a spring over stones in the emptiness of the alley. He blinks in surprise, Satya hardly ever laughed so openly

“My apologies…” She finally manages to say. “It’s just that it was so unexpected, from the situation and most of all from you.”

She snickers once more, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Glad you found it entertaining.” He mutters. “I am sure that no one else did.”

“I dislike Maximilien. He is far too familiar with me. “ She shudders. “That was refreshing to see.”

“I still shouldn’t have.” Hanzo shakes his head, in denial. “It was poor manners, even for me, and there is bound to be repercussions.”

“And yet you did anyway.” Satya giggles again.”Would you take it back if you could?”

He answers without hesitation. “Honestly, No. He deserved it.”

“And so, you must live with the consequences.” Satya hums quietly for a brief moment. “I don’t suggest going back immediately though. That event will be the discussion of the night.”

Of course it would be. Surely, Maximilien would be out for blood. No wonder Genji stopped attending these functions years ago, impulsive as Hanzo was lately, his brother had always been worse.

“I had no such intentions of doing so. I have been waiting to leave since the party started.”

“I thought as much. We shall deal with the repercussions on Monday.”

She reaches a delicate hand into her clutch, pulling out a thumb drive. “In regards to work, here are the records you asked for.”

Hanzo stares for a long moment before he recalls what she’s handing him. Dumping champagne on Maximilien had distracted him entirely.

He takes it from her, quickly stowing it into a pocket. “Thank you, Satya. I hope retrieving this wasn't too much of an issue?”

“Not at all.”  She clicks her bag closed. “I also took the time to look over it as well. I did not see any discrepancies of the type you were describing.”

His breath catches in his throat. He hadn’t thought she would take the initiative to look into the data he wanted. His cover story had been a vague question of fluctuations in stock pricing, something non descriptive enough to justify pulling the information without having too many questions asked.

She continues, heedless of his concern. “Though, something did seem off. The volume of incoming trades was far to high for what the market cap was at that time. I didn’t have time to double check, but if that's true then there has to be an error in the valuation per share, or else that means an influx of money from an outside source.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. If Satya raised any alarms about his digging, or alerted his father….

“Since that would be illegal I'm inclined to believe it's the first. It is troublesome either way, if the trend holds true for every year after, a major audit could cost the company upwards of millions.”

“Thank you so much for doing this for me, Satya.” He tries to keep the worry out of his voice.  “Your assistance is always appreciated.  But may I ask you just please, keep this quiet?”

She fixes him with a flat stare. “Of course. I would never share with anyone outside of the office.”

“Inside the office as well. I want to be sure of anything before I alert our internal audit team” he lies smoothly. “And my father doesn't need the extra stress.”

“Aside from the stress you caused dumping champagne on Maximilien Vantour?” She says, her eyebrow cocked.

“One headache is enough.”

“Of course, I understand.” She checks the time. “It is getting late, and I do not wish to return to the party either. I am heading home”

He pulls himself to his feet. Jesse’s presence was sorely missed, more and more by the minute.

“Take care and enjoy the next few days off, Satya. I will see you Monday.”

“You as well. Merry Christmas.”

* * *

Jack’s holiday party is loud, festive, and overall full of friends and family. Most of the staff from the restaurant has stopped in, several staying late- Gabe, Ana and Pharah, Lena and Emily, all settled around the dining room table to play a rambunctious game of Texas Hold’em. The game was a favorite of both Gabe’s and Jack’s from their days in the military. Nearly everyone who visited the house regularly had been taught to play at some point, though the level of skill remained varied.

Jesse had been texting back and forth with Hanzo all night. His poker face was suffering from his distraction and his pile of chips was meager, having made several poor bluffs while not at all paying attention to what was on the board. Hanzo had finally messaged that he was on his way, and Jesse was practically bouncing in his seat, eyes on his phone for want of the person.

“Jesse, you in or you out?” Lena raps her knuckles in front of him to get his attention.

“Huh?” He glances up, seeing everyone else is waiting. “Oh, in I guess.”

“Then put your chips in the center or fold. Bet’s two dollars.”

“Shit, here.” He tosses the last few into the pot. “That’s all I got.”

“Yeah, I counted.” Gabe grunts. “Get you out of the game so you can go make goo-goo eyes at your phone somewhere else if you ain’t gonna play.”

“Lo siento, Jefe.” He tips his hat and checks his phone again. “ We’re playing for quarters anyway.”

“Alright, everyone good? Then let’s see...” Emily deals the final card to its spot. “And nine of hearts. Last bets? Lena starts.”

“Raising three, who’s going to match me?” She shoves a fraction of her chips into the center, adding to the not insignificant pile already there. “Or are you going to let me take it?”

“Aw fuck, she’s gotta have a run or a flush, fuck me. I fold.” Gabe sighs, then tosses his two cards in, turning to Jesse. “You beating that?”

He doesn’t look up from his phone, just shaking his head. “Nah, I’m out. Pots yours, Lena.”

“Woo hoo! Hand ‘em over.” She stands up and makes a grabby motion. “I had an eight for the run, if you gents were wondering.”

“Course you did,” Gabe reaches over to nab the cards so he can pass them back to the dealer, taking a peek at what Jesse had been holding.  “Mijo, what the _fuck._ You had the flush! That wins over her hand!”

“Oh, oops. Guess I forgot.” He shrugs. “Hanzo's gonna be here in a few anyway, Lena can have my ten bucks.”

“Jesse, you are _killing_ your old man.  Why can’t you play this bad when it’s real cash, Christ.” Grumbling, Gabe takes his new two cards and tosses the starting bid to the pot.

Leaving them to the game, he steps outside to wait on the porch, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Soon enough he sees Hanzo’s car roll up, sliding neatly into the first open space near the house, and the doors open as he steps out.

“Hanzo!”

Hanzo looks up at the sound of his voice, and again that slow, beautiful smile spreads across his features, softening his face completely. He’s carrying a paper bag in one hand, his coat slung over his arm, and he raises his free hand in a small wave as he makes his way toward the house.

Jesse melts, that little bubble of joy spreading throughout his body. He knows he's too eager, but he steps off of the porch to meet him, arms spread wide.

“Merry Christmas, Jesse,” Hanzo says, letting himself be enveloped by Jesse’s hug. “Thank you for inviting me here.”

“Anytime, sweetpea. There’s no one else that I’d rather be with right now.”

“Hush,” Hanzo says, stepping back and craning his head upward to meet his eye. There’s the faintest tinge of pink in his cheeks and his eyes are sparkling. “You are flattering me.”

“Only you.” He leans down to lay a kiss on Hanzo’s forehead. “Since you look so fine and all. I was worried you’d have trouble finding the place, Jack’s house is kinda small.”

Hanzo’s laugh is low and rough, and Jesse loves it. “I don't think I could have missed it if I tired. When you told me to look for the lights I was thinking it’d be a bit more...subtle.”

He glances behind him. Multicolor strings lights dominate the eves of the house, trailing down each window and draped over literally every piece of foliage possible. To his left is an inflatable Santa Claus, which is in front of an assortment of inflatable snowman, mirrored by an inflatable tree, functional snow globe, and string of deer on the other side of the walkway.

Not to mention the other deer-lighted, plastic lattice type things whose heads bob up and down, among a moving silhouette of s stocking, Christmas elves, and sleigh. A “HAPPY HOLIDAYS” projection caps it all off, blinking against the side of the house.

“Point taken. Guess it’s a little tacky.”

“Speaking of tacky,” Hanzo steps back so he’s at arm's length away. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Jesse glances down and immediately flushes. Salmon pink, the words “MEOWY CATMUS” crown the top of his sweater in fuzzy white letters, and a sequined portrait of a cat’s eyes make up the picture underneath.

He chuckles in embarrassment. “Oh. Suppose I should of warned you, it’s this dumb tradition we have. Ugly sweaters, and the best one gets a six pack.”

“Did you win?” Hanzo asks, tone bordering on incredulous. “Because that is the ugliest thing I have ever seen.”

“Nah,” He rubs at the back of his neck. “Wait till you see Ana’s. But watch this!”

He runs his hands over the sequins, revealing another picture on the reverse- the cat now in a stocking with a Santa cap on.

Hanzo stares, stone-faced for a moment, before reaching out to rub the sequins himself. His lips purse and all at once he starts to laugh, throwing his arms around Jesse in a tight hug.

Jesse returns it, the happiest he can ever remember being. “Ready to see the real holiday party?”

“After the night I’ve had, I’m ready for anything.” Hanzo turns with him to see the door. His hand lingers on Jesse’s arm though, and another warm wave of fondness sweeps through him. “I might have left in a hurry, and it might have been because I dumped champagne on a very important associate of my father.”

Jesse whistles. “That’s a story I need to hear.”

* * *

He follows Jesse back inside, gripping his warm hand. The inside of the house just as abundantly decorated as the outside, if that was even possible. More lights are strung over doorways, plastic Christmas trinkets have taken over every flat surface, and a massive tree takes an entire corner of a combination dining and living room. It looks as if the couch had been shoved forward to accommodate it and the stack of presents underneath. The rest of the space is filled by a dining table, extending into the kitchen and covered with remnants of a holiday meal. Apparently, that wasn’t enough seating either, as there is a folded up card table against the wall, and a second one that has been claimed for some sort of card game.

Hanzo has never felt so out of place in his life. There are not too many people here, hardly a handful but he knows he stands out like a sore thumb. Even more so when everyone unoccupied by the game turns to look their way as he and Jesse walk into the living room.

He glances at Jesse, but the other man is just smiling and continues to the card table. Three people currently hold cards, and a fourth red-headed woman is sitting opposite from everyone else to deal the deck. Hanzo recognizes Gabriel, and then the peppy British waitress. The last is a man whos blond hair has gone largely gray, with glasses perched on his nose, wearing a perfectly normal ugly blue jumper.  They seem to have caught the end of the last round, everyone’s cards flat on the table.

“Go sit with the other losers, Jack, you’re done.” Gabriel is reaching for the pile of chips in the center. “Just like you to forget how to play in the end.”

“S’okay, Jack. We all know Gabe’s a sore loser.” Jesse quips. “Also, hi everyone, this is Hanzo. Hanzo, everyone.”

“Oh hello!” The blonde man, Jack, he surmises, stands to greet him with warm smile and hand extended. “Happy Holidays, and welcome!”

Hanzo shakes it, then holds out the gift bag he was carrying. “Thank you very much for having me over tonight. Your home is very..bright.”

“Thank you, and you didn't have to bring anything!” Jack says earnestly, taking the gift bag and reaching inside. “You’re a guest!”

“Jack _loves_ Christmas.” Jesse says from his side. “Spends all year waiting to decorate.”

"Practically cries when he has to take them down." Gabriel adds. 

“I do no-Oh, this is a cabernet, that’s great. 08’ Spotswood Estate? Wow.” Jack pauses, blinking as he reads the label. “Always wanted to try some of this, it’s supposed to be top quality. We’ve carried the sauvignon blanc at the restaurant but never their premium stuff. Thank you!”

“It is very good, for a red. I’ve had it paired with gouda myself.”

Wine had always been a good thank you gift, at least in his circles. The Spotswood was a little bit of a cheaper brand than he’d normally purchase, but he’d stopped last-minute so the selection was limited, and going to expensive seemed just as rude as not bringing anything.

“Hey, no one's heard from Genji tonight, is he coming?”

There’s a bar dividing the kitchen from the living room, and he sees Pharah is leaning on her elbows to talk with them.Her awful sweater features a glittery gold Christmas present on a red background, topped with an overly sized bow pinned right below the neckline.  The ribbons trail down the arms, and every time she moves it crinkles faintly.

“Unfortunately, I believe not.” Hanzo shakes his head. “he doesn't care for the holidays very much, and it’s been typical of him to disappear to his other haunts this time of year.”

“Ah, that’s bummer.” She sighs, sincerely disappointed. “I bet he’s fun at parties.”

“‘ _Fun_ ’ isn’t what I would call it.” He admits. “But he is lively.”

Perched in the bar stool next to Pharah is a lumpy, tinsel-covered tree. Hanzo double-takes and stares, trying to figure if this is another one Jack’s decorations or something that should have been thrown out. Actively blinking lights and crooked topper suggest otherwise, but for the life of his he can’t figure out why someone would bother to attach ornaments to the trash bag shaped abomination.

“Hanzo, have you met my mother?” Pharah tilts her head, indicating the green mass. “Ana Amari.”

Only years of experience allow him to keep a neutral expression, and he’s not too sure he actually succeeded when he from beside him he hears Jesse bursts out laughing.

“I told you her sweater was great. It fucking _kills_ me every time she moves.”

Ana spins her seat away from the bar to face them both. “A pleasure to meet you, Hanzo.”

“And you as well,” He shakes it, his voice a touch wavery as he tries not to start. giggling himself. “I have heard much about you.”

She crosses her arms in front of her chest, though the stern expression is ruined by the blinking lights in her sweater. “I hope they were all good things.”

“I only _eve_ r say good things ‘bout you, Ana.” Jesse sidles up to Hanzo once more and wraps an arm around his waist. “Pharah, on the other hand…”

“I did nothing compared to you, Jesse, and you know it. He told you that he was awful, right, Hanzo? That he used to be an absolute hellraiser?”

“It’s come up a few times, yes,” Hanzo admits, giving Jesse a small nudge as he speaks, which is answered by a squeeze. “I assure you that Genji has all of you beat, and unlike Jesse, has yet to grow out of it.”

“That does sound unfortunate. I know more than a few men who took too long to grow sense.” Ana nods sagely, causing the gold topper pinned to her hijab to bobble. “I could tell stories about both Gabe and Jack for days,...”

Happy chatter flows around him. Jack comes back with a plate of leftovers for him to try, even apologizing that most of the food was gone before he arrived. Jesse seems perfectly happy by his side, they eventually find a seat on the couch as guests start to head home. Not much later the poker game ends, Lena as the victor, and he learns the redhead who’d been dealing is her girlfriend, Emily. 

Hanzo is quickly realizing that another thing he likes about Jesse is just how casual he is with physical contact. He'd never thought he was craving touch, but the night wears on and Jesse always has a hand on him, or is close enough to bump shoulders, or their knees touch as they sit...it feels like bits of static and he can't get enough of it.

Overall, this is stark difference to the party he’d left. There’s hardly enough space, the decorations are cheesy, and the same three chintzy songs cycle on the radio, but Hanzo leans back to rest against Jesse’s shoulder it all seems irrelevant.

It’s pleasant here, pleasant and warm, and everyone seems right at home. If every Christmas Eve could be like this, Hanzo thinks he’d be a much happier man.

* * *

Jack has settled into his bed for the night, long after cleaning up after the last of the party. Enough people had stayed to lend a hand that it went rather quickly, dishwasher humming away and cookware drying beside the sink. Goggles at the foot of the bed, curled in a tight ball between his feet with her tail over her nose, while Musty seems content to stretch out by his side.

“Ever tell you your cats have the dumbest names?”

Gabe stretches as he finally sits on the bed, joints creaking.

“You literally named your dog ‘beans.’”

“She looks like a bean, and it’s cute.” He reaches out to pet the cat’s shaggy orange fur. “Musty is just insulting.”

Jack sets his glasses on the nightstand, rubbing at his eyes. The room became a blur without them, another reminder of his deteriorating sight. He didn’t feel especially old, and he didn't think neither him nor Gabe looked it, not really, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t.

“You sure made peace with Jesse’s new friends pretty quickly.”

Gabriel grunts noncommittally, showing the covers aside, scooting across the mattress till they were touching. Musty gives a small chirp of complaint as he loses his spot.

“What’s on your mind, Gabe?”

He sighs, turning onto his side so they’re facing each other. “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”

Jack lets Gabe snuggle up to him even as he has to refrain from rolling his eyes. He knew that the other man would be covering all his bases, that was a trait that he’d carried even back when they'd met in basic. Almost forty years ago, and that thought makes him feel his age more than his failing eyesight ever would.

Gabe keeps talking, tone the tiniest bit defensive. “Shimada is bad news. Old yakuza family from Japan, working mostly black market dealings. The grandfather wanted to move to the states back in the 80’s to capitalize on the drug trade. His eldest son, Sojiro, ended up making that happen, as well as heading the move to legitimize the business after the crackdown. Those two boys were brought up in that line of work since birth. Raised to be complicit.”

“You still pity them.” Jack says, seeing how Gabe isn't meeting his eyes. 

He twists again for a moment, before settling with his head resting on Jack’s shoulder, arm over his stomach. “Genji’s trouble for them. He doesn't want anything to do with his family. I don't think he even fully grasps what the family business really entails. He’s got a rebellious streak a mile wide, with a heaping dose of irresponsibility and a live fast die hard mentality. If they had a handle on him he’d be one heck of an asset, he’s sharp as a tack. So yeah, I feel bad for him. Still don't trust him, cuz a family like that doesn't let go easy.”

“And Hanzo?” Jack knows this is what really is setting off Gabe’s alarm bells. “He was perfectly pleasant today, and Jesse’s head over heels.”

“Of course he is, the idiot,” Gabe says. “Chances are Jesse’s just being strung along. How long until rich kid gets bored? He’s had whatever he’s wanted his whole life. And Jesse-”

“Jesse can make his own judgments.”

“I know that ” Gabe starts, fingers tightening for a moment.

They sit in a tense silence,  tense disagreement between them. “You can’t shelter him forever.”

For a long minute, Gabe is very quiet, stock still. “I _know_ , Jack. But you can’t tell me that this isn’t gonna be painless for him. He’s got jail time hanging over his head. And someone’s pulling strings left and right, and it all points back to the Shimadas.Jesse’s acting like it doesn’t bother him, like I can’t fucking see that he’s not sleeping and he’s worried sick and scared shitless. But instead of taking a step back, detangling, the idiot’s getting himself more and more involved. What the hell?”

Jack says nothing. Gabe's got valid points, and this has been bothering him for weeks now.

“I mean I guess it’s a good thing the other one is so infatuated with him too, but there’s a huge imbalance there that’s gonna be a real rude wake-up call. All I can see is his new boyfriend getting bored or finding something better and Jesse is gonna take that _right_ to heart-he’s not like me with that, he’s like yo-” Gabe stops mid-sentence, fingers tracing circles on Jack's stomach.

“Like me?” Jack asks quietly, placing his own hand over Gabe’s restless ones.

“Yeah,” Gabe says softly. “Just like you. You give everything, every damn bit of you to the people you love, whether or not they deserve it, so when they break your fool heart you’re left empty. And second chances...”

“Everyone deserves one.”

“Says you.”

“A conversation for another time.” He rolls so he’s on his side as well, digging Gabe’s hands from under the cover. This closeness was something he’d missed for far too long, and he was going to relish every moment of their renewed relationship.

Gabe finally lifts his eyes, and Jack can only see that because their faces are so close. “Jesse’s just tried so damn hard. Picked himself up from nothing, and he’s finally found solid ground. It’s going to kill me if he loses all that for some dumb crush”

“He’s stronger than you think.” He squeezes Gabe’s hand’s softly. “He’s happy. I can see it and that means you can too.”

“And that’s why I can’t fucking do anything about it. I hope like hell this works out, Jack. I just don’t see how.”

“Doesn't mean it won’t.”

“You’re such an optimist.” Gabe wrinkles his nose as he says the word. “Makes me feel bad about being so cynical.”

“I wouldn’t say your cynical, just more of a realist.” Jack leans forward, placing a soft kiss on his lover’s brow. “Keep me grounded, even if you do sound bitter all the time.”

“Someone has too.” The other man reciprocates the kiss, lips soft on Jack's own.  “Lucky I still love you.”

 

* * *

 

Hanzo didn't want to go home. His house was empty and cold, and he’d most likely be spending Christmas Day alone, or even worse, in the presence of his father who would like have some very choice words about his conduct the night before.

Jack’s party had wound down, everyone had said their goodbyes, and Jesse had walked Hanzo to his car. A lingering kiss goodbye, then Jesse had started back to walk away. With the absence of his touch leaving Hanzo feeling strangely empty, it's easy enough to ask.

"Jesse," He waits till the man turns to face him again, only a few steps away. "Can I stay over tonight?"

Jesse's eyebrows climb high enough to disappear under the brim of his hat. "Hell, 'course, you can, sugar." 

His eager yes, though it's what he wanted to hear, sends a ping of anxiety through his body. Undeniably, sleeping with Jesse was on his mind. Just....not right away. And not as a one-time thing, he hopes. 

He thinks the other man feels the same, but...

It's too late to question his decision, he'd already asked. 

That doesn't stop him from circling over the same thoughs the entire drive to Jesse's apartment. Even after he follows Jesse up the stairs and into the living room, worrying at the edge of his lips with his teeth.  Jesse takes a seat on the couch, Hanzo next to him, and when Jesse tries to take his hand he jumps instead of letting him.

“You sure you’re okay coming over?” Jesse hesitantly asks. When Hanzo shoots him a look, he apologetically grabs at his hat. “You just seem real nervous. If I’m pushing on you to do something you don’t wanna do just say so.”

“That’s not it.” Hanzo bites his lip. “I want to be here. I want to be with you.”

“Sure, but I ain’t going anywhere. We got all the time in the world.” Jesse settles back onto his couch, draping an arm behind him.

His unhurried reassurance gives Hanzo the moment he needs to try and voice just why he’s concerned.

“I--” Hanzo hesitates. “Did...Did you plan to get together...did you just want to sleep with me?”

“You caught me.” A heartbeat of silence, then Jesse snorts. “Sorry, I’m joking. I’m not one for one night stands, sorry to disappoint.”

Hanzo’s relief is palpable, a long sigh leaving his lungs. “No, no, that is preferred.”

Jesse’s looking at him, a smile playing on his lips again. “You asked your brother for advice?”

“How did you guess?”

“Have you seen the kid? He could charm the pants off a snake, but he ain’t the type to keep anyone around.”

“You are accurate.”  He lets himself relax, a weight gone from his shoulders. “I just have never been one to date much, so I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

Jesse’s grin turns wolfish. “So we _are_ officially dating now? Since I’m not just trying to get you in bed.”

“I suppose we can call it that.” Hanzo grins, scooting closer. “That makes you my boyfriend. Heh, like being back in high school.”

“In that case, sweetheart, do you want to just cuddle an’ watch some movies?”

“Please.” Hanzo says, releshing the feeling of being next to him. “Nothing sounds better.”

“I just have mostly cowboy movies,” Jesse says sheepishly. “It’s kinda something I collect. For my birthday and stuff it’s what I always get. I can ask Pharah for her netflix account and we can watch on my phone if cowboys ain't yer thing.”

“No, I think I just may be developing a thing for cowboys.” Hanzo smiles. He can tell Jesse cleaned recently, the place smells pretty fresh. “Your movies are fine.”

“You got any preferences?”

“I have to confess I haven’t really seen any.” Hanzo says. “So I wouldn’t even know where to start.” He pauses, thinking. “Show me your favorite.”

Jesse blinks, then grins widely. “Alrighty, one moment. There’s almost too many to pick.”

He gets up, crouching in front of his shelf, running his finger over the top row of movies.“I have to think on this, my all-time favorite? Hrm, almost too much pressure.”

“How many favorites can you possibly have?” Hanzo asks.

“Don’t judge, sweetpea. This is a window to my soul here.” He leans forward again, a contemplative hum under his breath, then with a finger snap reaches out to make a selection. “Perfect. I love this one.”

“What’s it called?”

 _“Shane.”_ Jesse tells him, placing the movie in the player. “It’s old, but it’s great. I’m not gonna spoil anything for you, though, you actually have to watch it.”

“Of course.” Hanzo shifts a bit as Jesse sits down next to him. "Now what did you say about cuddling?”

Jesse turns behind and takes the thick red blanket folded over the back, wrapping an end over his chest and lifting his arm, inviting Hanzo close. Willingly he goes, folding his legs beneath him and snuggling into the warmth of Jesse’s body. This near, he can hear his heartbeat.

His hand runs over his arm and shoulder, pressing Hanzo closer to the other man’s chest. Hanzo tilts his head, nested in the crook of Jesse’s shoulder, and Jesse looks down in response.

Hanzo starts the kiss this time, lifting his head to capture Jesse’s lips. Coarse beard hair tickles his nose just as before, the warm exhale of the other man’s breath against his skin. Jesse’s the first to part lips and Hanzo eagerly follows, tasting at Jesse’s tongue and mouth.

An eager whine comes from the throat of his lover, and Jesse turns into him. His hold on Hanzo’s bicep becomes firm as he bears down. Hanzo mimics this, one hand snaking up to grab at the nape of Jesse’s neck, clutching at a fistful of hair, his other wrapping around the other man’s back. Jesse is warm, his mouth eager against Hanzo’s own.

They’ve shifted so Hanzo leaning back, bracing himself against couch coushiond while Jesse is over him, fingers still gripping Hanzo’s arm and other hand holding his torso. Jesse’s hair brushes his skin as they explore each other's mouth.

He pulls back, just a fraction, sucking in a lungful of air as he turns his face to the side. Jesse begins peppering kisses at the corner of his mouth. He dips his chin, and places his own trail in the brown beard, then neck, nuzzling at that spot below his ear. He’s rewarded by a soft groan, which in turn sends a fizzling trill all the way down to his crotch.

There’s a faint chime from the television, and he glances over to see the menu screen.

“Jesse?” Hanzo turns his head, cheeks red. All his concern about Jesse treating him like a one night stand, and here he was, making out with him like a teenager on prom night.

“Mhmm?” Jesse is nibbling at his shoulder, and he can feel the touch of lips and tongue.

“Your movie?” He coughs.

“Ohh.” Jesse mumbles into his neck, giving a side-eyed glance at the screen. “I got distracted, sorry.”

“I believe you said cuddle and movie?” He replies, though he honestly doesn’t mind. Jesse’s looking rakish in the dim light, and that familiar pang of desire from low in his belly roars to life.

“Yeah, I did.” Jesse sits up, reaching for the remote and finally starting the movie. “Cuddling it is.”

Then he adjusts himself, settling lengthwise across the coach so he’s laying down. “Though I can’t help it when you start kissing me like that, it’s playing dirty.”

Hanzo settles against him, Jesse spooning his back. “I can’t help it when you look that kissable.”

Jesse's answer is a whisper against his ear, voice dropping into the low murmur. “I get the feeling that you’re into being a bit dirty.”

Hanzo bites his lips, though he can’t stop the shiver that courses through him. Jesse’s arm encircles his waist, their bodies pressed from knee to chest, and he swears he can feel a little something extra down by his ass.

The start of the movie gives him something else to focus on, but he’s not sure if he’s grateful or just mad.

 _“All the time in the world”_ was what Jesse had said earlier, and Hanzo sincerely hopes he's right.

 

* * *

 

This time around, he wakes with his head tucked under Jesse’s chin, his serape draped over both of them and pleasantly warm. The other man’s right arm resting over Hanzo’s torso, their lower legs tangled together. His boyfriend is fast asleep, a small but endearing snore just barely audible against the menu music of the DvD they fell asleep watching.

It would have been comfortable if it wasn't for the fact that Hanzo was slowly yet surely slipping into the space between the couch cushion and couch back. Some awful piece of metal is digging into his upper thigh, part of the couch’s battered frame he’s sure.

“Jesse.”

Jesse’s chest slowly rises and falls as he continues to slumber, unaware of Hanzo’s plight.

“Jesse. ” Hanzo tries again, freeing his hand from where it was trapped between them to poke gently his human blanket. “Wake up.”

The gesture is only marginally more successful. Jesse mumbles something altogether incoherent before shifting, bringing his leg up higher and somehow managing to wedge Hanzo even further down into the void between cushions.

_Well, shit._

The annoying metal thing now is turning painful, and with his boyfriend's torso smushing him down he can hardly move. Hanzo lets out an annoyed huff; Despite all of his fantasies about Jesse being on top of him, this was _not_ how he pictured it.

It leaves only one course of action. His nose and lips are still close to Jesse’s bare neck. Hanzo wets his lips with his tongue, then presses his mouth against the tawny skin, puffing out his cheeks and blowing as hard as he can.

The resulting noise is both rude and _loud_ , enough that Jesse jolts upright with a startled exclamation.

Wide-eyed, sleep-mussed hair and red impression left from sleeping on his own arm, Jesse blinks for a moment as he regains his bearings. It’s adorable, and Hanzo can’t help the raucous laughter that bubbles forth, even as he finally frees himself from the couch prison.

* * *

 

In Jesse’s small apartment, the smell of breakfast filling the kitchen, it’s easy enough to imagine waking every morning like this. An everyday domesticity of casual affection that he didn't know he craved till it was given to him.

Although, he amends, in his imagination there's a much better shower. It’s appalling, that someone would be forced to live like this. Jesse said that there was a sweet spot for a comfortable temperature, but as a quarter inch turn of the shower handle shifts the temperature from just barely too hot to an icy cold he’s pretty sure that the man was either lying or had destroyed all the nerve endings in his skin to be used to this.

This was abject cruelty. Several more barely imperceptible adjustments to the shower control fail to produce the supposed sweet spot, so Hanzo gives up, settling for the side of a little too hot. Jesse’s shampoo smells alright enough, but he can’t locate a loofah nor any sort of scrub, so he settles for just washing his hair. While loaded with suds, the water temperature abruptly shifts toward too cool again, so blindly he reaches out and fumbles for the nob.

Twisting it does nothing. Standing under the fast cooling water he cleanses the soap from his eyes and peers at the dial again. It’s turned as far towards hot as it will go, yet the water sluicing down is now is on par with ice rain. Was the plumbing broken?

“Jesse?” He calls out, annoyed. “Apologies, I think you will need to call a plumber.”

“Why’s that honeybee?” Jesse’s footfalls approach down the hall. “What’s wrong?”

“The water is stuck on freezing.”

He gets a guffaw of laughter. “Han, the hot water just ran out. You’ve been in there for over a half hour.”

“It runs _out?”_

For some reason that gets even more of a laugh from the other side of the door, his boyfriend seeming to find great amusement in his suffering.

“Sure do. Best finish up, ‘sides I got breakfast cooking.” Jesse hears a grumbled answer in response. It makes him snort, abd he heads back to the kitchen, letting Hanzo be.  

Jesse's humming again. It's not everyday you wake up snuggled in the arms of someone who’s almost too pretty to be real. Best Christmas yet.

He grabs cinnamon, vanilla, and a few eggs, cracking them into a bowl. Whisking the mixture together for a few moments until it’s blended. He can hear the shower turn off, good timing, and dips pieces of toast into the mix. He’s had another pan heating over medium heat, and drops the toast onto the pan just as wet foot falls on linoleum warn him of Hanzo’s appearance.

“Jesse, I am _freezing_.” Hanzo’s arm’s wrap around his torso, the other man burying his face into his back. “Next time, we are going to my house.”

“Next time? And how soon can we make that happen?” He smiles in delight, laying his hand over where Hanzo’s meet.

Hanzo has very, very strong arms. Jesse lets his fingers trace over the other man’s knuckles, then inside of his wrist, rubbing gently at the skin of his forearm. He’s a few seconds late on flipping the toast, now just a little bit browner than it’s supposed to be.

“Soon.” Hanzo’s reply is a grunt to his back, and he gives a strong squeeze before releasing him. “I miss you when you are not around.”

“Aw, sugar, that’s…” Jesse had turned so he could see Hanzo’s face, but the words die stuck in his throat.

Hanzo hadn’t put clothes back on, opting for just a towel, damp hair hanging down his back. Small droplets of water are running down his skin, Jesse’s eyes follow them hungrily. It trails down the other man’s cheek, neck, clavicle, then chest and stomach and into the towel.

“Like what you see?”

Jesse has to drag his uncooperative gaze away from the cut of muscle on Hanzo’s hips. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, nodding instead.

“I figured you deserved it, after the sight you gave me.” Hanzo is _smirking._ “Also I think breakfast is burning.”

“Wh…Oh shit!” Jesse flails for the pan and promptly whangs his head on the hood of the stove. “Fuck!”

From behind him Hanzo’s snickering turns into loud laugher. Jesse gets a hand on the pan and pulls it off heat. The toast is ruined, but he finds he really doesn't care, and even less so when Hanzo pulls him away from the stove to press a deep kiss to his lips.

Standing in his small apartment kitchen on Christmas Day, toast burnt, arms around his boyfriend dripping cold water on his floor, Jesse thinks he absolutely can get used to this.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song Jesse is singing when cleaning his house is [freind in low places](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p0_der_5hRM) by Garth Brooks and I suggest y'all give it a listen cuz it fucking fits okay?
> 
> Lyrics:  
> Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots  
> And ruined your black tie affair  
> The last one to know, the last one to show  
> I was the last one you thought you'd see there  
> And I saw the surprise, and the fear in his eyes  
> When I took his glass of champagne  
> And I toasted you, said, "Honey, we may be through  
> But you'll never hear me complain"
> 
>  
> 
> 'Cause I've got friends in low places  
> Where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases  
> My blues away  
> And I'll be okay  
> I'm not big on social graces  
> Think I'll slip on down to the Oasis  
> Oh, I've got friends  
> In low places
> 
>  
> 
> Well, I guess I was wrong, I just don't belong  
> But then, I've been there before  
> Everything's alright, I'll just say goodnight  
> And I'll show myself to the door  
> Hey, I didn't mean, to cause a big scene  
> Just give me an hour and then  
> Well I'll be as high as that ivory tower  
> That you're livin' in


End file.
